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NATURE-STUDY. 



Give me to learn each secret cause; 
Let numbers, figures, Nature's laws, 

Reveal'd before me stand : 
Then to great Nature's scenes apply, 
And, round the globe, and thro' the sky, 

Disclose her working hand.' 

Akenside. 




Plato? byBegretti ' 




NATURE-STUDY; 



THE ART OF ATTAINING THOSE EXCELLENCIES IN 

POETRY AND ELOQUENCE 

WHICH 

ARE MAINLY DEPENDENT ON THE MANIFOLD INFLUENCES OF 

UNIVERSAL NATURE. 



BY 



HENRY DIRCKS, C.E. LL.D. F.R.S.E. M.R.S.L. 

AUTHOR OF ' LIFE OF THE MARQUIS OF WORCESTER,' ' LIFE OF SAMUEL HARTLIB," ETC. 



Parcus Decorum cultor, et infrequens, 
Insanientis dum sapientiae 
Consultus erro ; nunc retrorsum 
Vela dare, atque iterare cursus 
Cogor relictos — 

Horace. 




LONDON : 
E. MOXON, SON & CO., 44, DOVER STREET, W. 

1869. 






60501 



LONDON : 

SWIFT & CO., REGENT PRESS, KING STREET, 

REGENT STREET W. 



TO 

RICHARD MONCKTON, BARON HOUGHTON, 

ETC., ETC., ETC., 
OF 

FRYSTON HALL, FERRYBRIDGE, YORKSHIRE, 

Poet, Philosopher, anil statesman* 

THE MODERN 

MEC^ENAS OF LITERATURE; 

AND 

ONE OF ITS MOST PROFOUND CRITICS; 

THIS BOOK IS 

DEDICATED BY PERMISSION 

WITH FEELINGS OF THE UTMOST RESPECT AND ESTEEM 
BY HIS MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT, 

HENRY DIRCKS. 



b 2 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Dedication v 

Preface xi 

Chapter I. • 

Introduction. Human rather than External Na- 
ture the province of ancient classical, and of 
old English Poetry ; the vague and conflict- 
ing opinions of critics on the character, influ- 
ences, and study of Nature, and consequent 
absence of any System . . . pp. i — 40 

Chapter II. 

Criticism affords no definite rules in reference to 
the study of Nature ; Nature as distinguished 
from Art, includes the entire Creation, animate 
and inanimate ; various critical opinions ex- 
amined, especially in reference to Words- 
worth's philosophy of Nature ; unmeaning 
language reprobated ; poets best record their 
own Nature-Study ; the practice of Thomson, 
Young, Pope, Scott, Coleridge, and Dr. 
Southey, with illustrations from the latter, 
and from Wordsworth's Excursion . . 41 — 80 

Chapter III. 

The absence of methodized Nature-Study ; Words- 
worth's works leave his Philosophy open to 
dispute ; methodical study insisted on : a 
study independent of science ; Generalization 
an important elementary step ; Figurative 
language ; its indebtedness to Nature ; ex- 
amples from Prose Writers ; modes suggested 
for classifying figures from Nature . . 81 — 97 

Chapter IV. 

Proverbs, ancient and modern ; strictures on so- 
called Proverbial Philosophy ; Scripture pro- 
verbs ; Proverbs from ZBschylus, Sophocles, 
Euripides, Persian, Turkish, and Afghan 



( 



Vlll 



Proverbs ; Shakspeare's proverbs ; Ray's col- 
lection, &c. ; analysis showing natural objects, 
&c. employed in the proverbs quoted . pp. 98 — 111 

Chapter V. 

Descriptive Poetry in its first division, as applied 
to single objects and features ; mere naming 
or cataloguing censured ; attempt to portray 
Nature through Art ; design of the examples 
of poetical practice in description ; Celestial 
and Terrestrial Nature illustrated by poetical 
selections ...... 112 — 152 

Chapter VI. 

Descriptive Poetry in its second division, or large 
and ordinary sense ; Greek and other early 
poetry not highly descriptive ; Blackmore's 
Creation; Thomson's Seasons; Darwin's bo- 
tanical poetry; Burns as a descriptive poet; 
characteristics of natural scenes, seasons, &c, 
in illustrative selections from the poets 153 — 174 

Chapter VII. 

Human Nature : an independent and important 
study ; illustrative poetical examples, phy- 
sical, metaphysical, ethical, theological, social, 
and political; Fletcher's Purple Island; general 
observations ...... 175 — 210 

Chapter VIII. 

Meditative, and religious, moral, or serious poetry ; 
ancient Hebrew poetry ; the Old Testament ; 
Wordsworth on universal Nature ; prose ex- 
amples ; illustrative poetical selections ; re- 
marks on the adopted arrangement . 211 — 257 

Chapter IX. 

Imagination and Fancy; former poetical illustra- 
tions generally deficient in both ; Dr. Brown 
on Imagination ; Professor Bain on Poetical 
truth ; Imagination and Fancy defined ; poeti- 
cal conception excels production ; sentiments 
of Humboldt, and Lord Macaulay ; various 
illustrative poetical specimens ; remarks on 
the same ...... 258 — 333 



\ 



( « ) 

Chapter X. 

On Negative views of Nature ; contra-natural and 
fabulous creatures ; poetical mysticism ; Na- 
ture as a standard of taste and criticism ; In 
Memoriam ; Nature and Art ; illustrative 
poetical specimens of the negative employ- 
ment of Nature ; remarks on the application 
of the term negative ; when misused ; its 
various employment ; Nature-Study still re- 
quisite . .... pp. 334—365 

Chapter XI. 

Miscellaneous observations ; peculiar applications 
of Nature ; assimilating literary labours with 
external appearances in Nature ; religious ap- 
propriations of Nature ; the unlovely or ugly ; 
amusing use of platitudes ; truth and fiction 
in serious compositions ; climate and taste ; 
concluding remarks .... 366 — 374 

Chapter XII. 

Esthetics must afford rules of Art ; Nature un- 
erring, creative, and perfect ; Art imperfect ; 
Nature a mystery ; Beauty a trait of Nature : 
Nature as studied for Poetry ; retrospect of 
preceding observations ; mysticism censured ; 
purely Descriptive Poetry ; Science antago- 
nistic to poetry ; Dramatic Poetry. Nature, 
simple in description, and etherealized through 
Imagination and Fancy ; Generalization and 
Particularization illustrated ; Nature in re- 
ference to human passions, sentiments, and 
other associations ; Shakspeare an eminent 
instance ; a Common-place book suggested ; 
subjects for it ; concluding remarks . 375 — 405 



PREFACE. 



The once celebrated, and not even now entirely 
forgotten Imlac, the companion and friend of 
Rasselas, in the history of his life, declared to 
the Prince of Abyssinia, while resident in the 
Happy Valley, that : — 

' Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw every- 
thing with a new purpose ; my sphere of atten- 
tion was suddenly magnified ; no kind of 
knowledge was to be overlooked, I ranged the 
mountains and deserts for images and resem- 
blances, and pictured upon my mind every tree 
of the forest and flower of the valley. I ob- 
served with equal care the crags of the rock and 
the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wan- 
dered along the mazes of the rivulet, and some- 
times watched the changes of the summer clouds. 
To a poet nothing can be useless. Whatever is 
beautiful, and whatever is dreadful, must be 
familiar to his imagination ; he must be con- 
versant with all that is awfully vast or elegantly 
little. The plants of the garden, the animals of 
the wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors 
of the sky, must all concur to store his mind 
with inexhaustible variety : for every idea is 
useful for the enforcement or decoration of moral 
or religious truth ; and he who knows most will 
have most power of diversifying his scenes, and 
of gratifying his reader with remote allusions 
and unexpected instruction. All the appearances 



( xii ) 

of Nature I was therefore careful to study ; and 
every country which I have surveyed has con- 
tributed something to my poetical powers.' 

He went on to say : ' The business of a poet 
is to examine, not the individual, but the species, 
to remark general properties and large appear- 
ances : he does not number the streaks of the 
tulip, or describe the different shades in the 
verdure of the forest. He is to exhibit, in his 
portraits of Nature, such prominent and striking 
features as recal the original to every mind ; and 
must neglect the minuter discriminations — which 
one may have remarked and another have neg- 
lected — for those characteristics which are alike 
obvious to vigilance and carelessness.' 

1 But,' he adds, ' the knowledge of Nature is 
only half the task of a poet ;' he must not only 
study human character and modes of life, but 
also — c many languages and many sciences ; and, 
that his style may be worthy of his thoughts, 
must, by incessant practice, familiarize to him- 
self every delicacy of speech and grace of 
harmony. 1 

No wonder that the amiable prince after this 
exordium should exclaim — l Enough ! thou hast 
convinced me that no human being can ever 
be a poet !' 

What the great moralist wrote on this topic 
in 1759, is as applicable after a lapse of one 
hundred and ten years as it was when first pub- 
lished. The study of Nature as represented to 
have been viewed by Imlac, has received no im- 
provement. No critic has essayed to refute, 
correct, or add to his arguments, but all remain 



( xiiI ) 

as vague and diversified in their statements on 
this subject as though it were a hopelessly in- 
tricate maze. Imlac says of the poet that, c He 
must write as the interpreter of Nature and the 
legislator of mankind.' This interpretation is 
still upheld, and according to not a few we are 
literally to find — 

tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 



Sermons in stones, 

It would be out of place to re-open here the 
subject of the present treatise, but it is important 
to state briefly its scope and method. 

In the first place, Chapters I. and II. are oc- 
cupied with introductory and critical remarks 
principally in reference to the growth of this 
study, its importance in the present state of 
literature, the total absence of method in such 
study, and the perplexing influence of the di- 
versity of critical opinion expressed by high 
literary authorities ; showing also how very 
crude has been the methods of study of which 
we have been able to glean information. At 
the same time it is shown that hundreds of 
volumes have been written professing to en- 
lighten us on the subject of Nature, without ad- 
vancing a single available process to attain the 
desired end. In 1813 was published The Phi- 
losophy of Nature, 1 2mo, consisting of 664 pages, 
but in what the philosophy consists it would be 
difficult to say, unless it be considered the only 
suitable term for musing about rocks, rivers, 
islands, pictorial art, and the like, in a number 
of detached paragraphs without any apparent 
aim or design. And such is the general disap- 



XIV 



pointment on perusing this class of works, that 
it may have operated on the author of the present 
work to induce him to keep, if possible, too 
closely to his text, even to the exclusion from 
every quotation of the slightest allusion to Art, 
except where absolutely required to preserve the 
sense of some particular passage. 

Secondly. In Chapter III. we advance to the 
ist stage in which the employment of Nature 
can be said properly to affect language, in meta- 
phorical forms of expression, and principally con- 
cerning prose compositions. In Chapter IV. this 
examination is extended to proverbial construc- 
tions of language, more largely and picturesquely 
indebted to the observance of external Nature. 

Thirdly. The poetical series commences with 
Chapter V., being descriptive of single natural 
objects ; and in Chapter VI. of such objects 
compounded, forming complex subjects and 
scenes. To these, as likewise to each chapter 
following, some introductory remarks are appen- 
ded, and each division is illustrated by a variety 
of poetical selections ancient and modern. 

Fourthly. The Vllth chapter has been devoted 
entirely to c Human Nature' from its superior 
character, and the greater devotedness of poets of 
all ages and climes to its development. Chapter 
VIII. may be considered as an appropriate adjunct 
to the foregoing, referring as it does entirely to 
meditative and other serious forms of poetry. 

I ifthly. The IXth Chapter is wholly engaged 
with * Imagination and Fancy ; ' and then follow 
two chapters, one on c Negative views of Nature,' 
and the other ' Miscellaneous Observations.' 



( xv ) 

So far then, we have before us a large collec- 
tion of illustrative examples of species of Nature- 
Study, pursued as it may be said solely by 
natural instinct, or talent, or genius, or through 
the interposition of a direct inspiration. Be the 
means what they may, we have here the result, 
as it were, stereotyped, and may examine at our 
leisure the mental process that developed without 
system, what we are desirous of rendering syste- 
matic. In Chapter XII. this is attempted, and the 
consistency of the methods proposed may be proved 
by any one having the ability to apply them in 
practice. We see how man's association with 
Nature leads him to mix the mental with the 
material, to see in his own anger the angry tor- 
rent, his own fury the furious storm, his own 
calmness the serenity of summer's evening ; he is 
as a palm, or as grain, or as w^ater ; his life is as 
a breath, or a mist, or a dew. 

It is laid down that we must Generalize, to 
ascertain the substances and qualities of the several 
portions of the Universe. If we take these as 
Fire, Water, Earth, and Air, we must again 
generalize on each of these, until at last we have 
perhaps gone as far as present knowledge will 
permit. The next process is to Particularize, 
which may be carried to an indefinite extent, or 
limited to special subjects. Lastly, we have to 
Analyze each of those, so as to connect their 
minutest associations in respect to all that apper- 
tains to or can be connected with them. But as 
in these processes we are dealing first with 
Nature, to trace its minutest ramifications, with- 
out any express or premeditated object, there is 



XVI 



another mode of studying Nature suggested, as 
when the primary desire is to find in the 
material world what will appropriately associate 
with and illustrate figuratively our ideas of Time, 
Space, Power, Sublimity, Beauty, Figure, Order, 
Motion, Light, Life, Colour, Variety, Simplicity, 
Solitude, Antagonism, and the like, in which our 
examination of natural objects and phenomena 
will proceed upon a somewhat similar process, 
but differently applied. 

The author, speaking from thirty years' expe- 
rience, feels confident in asserting that he believes 
the true, conscientious, unfettered student of 
Nature, largely informed on a variety of subjects, 
without being deeply read in science, will not 
have occasion to proceed far in the recommended 
method of study, without speedily acquiring a 
vast store of original and novel information ; 
and for ever discard the visionary and imbecile 
attempt to expound and imitate Nature in 
mysteriousness. There is sufficient in Nature 
still undeveloped by the intelligence of the 
greatest geniuses from the days of Homer to the 
present time, to occupy many generations of 
poets, in objects, features, and phenomena, which 
Nature unfolds for man's enjoyment and instruc- 
tion, without his attempting to realize the fabled 
character of the seer, sorcerer, or astrologer ; an 
unhappy ambition which never has and never 
can out-do the broad daylight workings of 
Nature, in this our sublunary state of being. 

Nature is so vast, so incomprehensibly sub- 
lime, that it can exist, and hold on its 
course without deriving the smallest advan- 



( xvii ) 

tage from Man's laudation, a remark we are 
disposed to make in consequence of most 
writers on this subject adopting an unnecessary- 
course of almost frantic adulation, as if in excuse 
for having nothing better to say. Read their 
works where we will, they are without point, 
too often without truth, and generally calculated 
to mislead. We should have no hopes of a 
reader as a student of Nature, who was wedded 
to the perverse, narrow, unmeaning views as 
generally expressed in the most promising vo- 
lumes respecting the studies, teachings, voices, 
spirit, and soul of Nature ; works that are neither 
prose nor poetry, neither wholly sense nor en- 
tirely without merit, but feeble as the mountain 
mist and far less profitable. 

Among puerile attempts to enhance Nature, 
it is not uncommon for the enthusiast to express 
surprise at the appropriateness of its objects or 
peculiar features in giving effect to moral senti- 
ments, ignorant of the simple fact that this very 
circumstance arises from daily habit and associa- 
tion. From pages 103 to 1 10, we have given a 
selection of proverbs all more or less derived 
from Nature ; but had Art been our object we 
could have found matters relating thereto as- 
sociated in like manner with moral and other 
advice, as : — 

No lock will hold against the power of gold. 

What your glass tells you will not be told by counsel. 

A pound of care will not pay an ounce of debt. 

He lights his candle at_both ends. 

The balance distinguishes not between gold and lead. 

Step after step the ladder is ascended. 

The same observations apply to all strong as- 



( xvl ) 

sociations; hence the enthusiasm of those 
who devote their energies to any special 
pursuit, giving a charm where otherwise no 
interest could possibly exist. But time and cir- 
cumstances may occasion that interest to abate, 
under certain circumstances, beyond the possi- 
bility of revival ; and hence we have no longer 
any devout feelings for heathen deities, or even 
the so-called druidical remains found in our own 
country — the age that honoured them, together 
with its traditions, having departed. 

In the Life and Correspondence of John 
Foster, 2 vols. i2mo, 1848, occurs the following 
remark from his Journal: — 'But sweet Nature ! 
I have conversed with her with inexpressible 
luxury ; I have almost worshipped her. A 
flower, a tree, a bird, a fly has been enough to 
kindle a delightful train of ideas and emotions, 
and sometimes to elevate the mind to sublime 
conceptions.' (p. 303.) Now we could have 
spared this laudation for a few examples of the 
c delightful train of ideas and emotions.' 

Like many other such writers, Foster observes 
an c Astonishing number of analogies with moral 
truth strike one's imagination in wandering and 
musing through the scenes of Nature' (p. 204). 
Very true, but not peculiar to Nature. Hence 
we find in Shakspeare : — 

life is a shuttle. — Merry Wives of Windsor. 

The web of our life is a mingled yarn, good and ill to- 
gether : Alls Well that ends Well. 

Out, out, brief candle ! 



Life's but a poor player, 

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more ; it is a tale. — Macbeth. 



XIX 



They found him dead 

An empty casket, where the jewel of life [ta'en away]. 

King John. 
— now hath time made me his numbering clock: 
My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, they jar, 
Their watches to mine eyes, the outward watch, 
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
Is pointing still. King Richard II. 

Foster seems to have been a believer in 
Physiopatby, a faculty of pervading all Nature 
with one's own being, as it is here explained, so 
as to have a perception, a life, and an agency in 
all things. At page 213 of this ' Life ' it is 
stated that a man possessing this faculty — ' He 
feels as if he grew in the grass, and flowers, and 
groves; — he flows in the river, chafes in its 
cascades, smiles in the aqueous flowers, and 
frisks in the fishes ; — thereby, in one sense, in- 
heriting all things.' And, in our estimation, 
much to be pitied should such an one be without 
friends to take care of him during such hallu- 
cinations. 

German transcendentalism indulges in fantas- 
tical dreams ; even Goethe, whatever he might 
really think, could say, allusive to his residence 
at Darnburg, — ' I pass almost the whole day in 
the open air, and hold spiritual communion 
with the tendrils of the vine, which say good 
things to me, and I could tell you wonders.' 

On another occasion he said to Eckermann : 
c I will confide something to you that will sound 
odd. The plant goes from knot to knot, closing 
at last with the flower and the seed. In the 
animal kingdom it is not otherwise. The cater- 
pillar and the tape-worm go from knot to 
knot, and at last forms a head. With the higher 



XX 



animals and man, the vertebral bones grow one 
upon another, and terminate with the head, in 
which the powers are concentrated. With cor- 
porations it is the same as with individuals. 
The bees, a series of individuals, connected one 
with another, at least as a community, produce 
something, which is the conclusion, and may be 
regarded as the head of the whole — the queen 
bee. How this is managed is a mystery, hard 
to be expressed, but I may say I have my 
thoughts about it.' 

Now here we have a plant contrasted with 
the c caterpillar and tape-worm,' and these again 
with c animals and man'; and leaving them we 
have next to c6nsider a colony of ' bees' and 'the 
queen bee,' to arrive at a philosophical conclu- 
sion in respect to some analogy assumed to exist 
between them and any ' corporation,' a body of 
individuals, such as the lord mayor, aldermen, 
and common council. We have, however, too 
high an esteem for Goethe's genius to conclude 
that we have here a translation precisely con- 
veying his views on a subject — the study of 
Nature, the pleasure and consolation of a long 
and successful literary career. What Pope ex- 
pressed in reference to a certain class of dark, 
metaphysical writers, might be well applied to 
the majority of works treating on Nature — 

So spins the silk-worm small its slender store, 
And labours till it clouds itself all o'er. 

A recent writer expressing his sentiments in 
in reference to the power of the poet impressed 
with a high feeling for, and perception of Nature; 
and of the influence of his poetry on readers, 



( ™ ) 

having a less vivid perception, as thereby the 
delicate mysteries of Nature come to be unveiled 
and recognized. And again that — The passion 
of the poet detects and brings to light the secret 
analogies between the visible and invisible worlds, 
and shapes them into song; — and then proceeds 
to speak of the poet's invocations of Nature in 
her softest breathings. Is there a word of mean- 
ing in this prose statement? What are — the 
delicate mysteries — the secret analogies — invoca- 
tions of Nature — and its softest breathings ? 
Such language might pass if poetically expressed ; 
but in plain prose, meant to enlighten us, as a 
critic should enlighten his readers on any other 
subject, how happens it that, on the subject of 
Nature, each critic writes such nothings as this 
example affords ? The dignity of Nature de- 
mands some healthier treatment than is afforded 
by such sentimentally expressed adulation of its 
mysteries and secrets. 

As little is to be learned from books concern- 
ing Nature, if we except such as treat on as- 
tronomy, geography, natural history, and other 
kindred branches, the poet is left without any 
assistance ; and we might well be induced to 
inquire seriously — Has he, or has he not, any 
definite mode of studying Nature ? A man of 
science may content himself with astronomy, or 
botany, or conchology, to the exclusion of all 
others. But the poet must be naturalistic and 
universal ; and however great in astronomy alone, 
he might fail of securing public estimation. 

Every poet who studies Nature, does so after 
some plan of his own. Has any one ever asked 



( xxii ) 

himself — In what does the study of Universal 
Nature consist ? How should I study Nature 
were I a poet ? 

It may appear strange, but on close examina- 
tion it will be found true, that no methodical 
c study of Nature ' is on record. There is no 
standard, no system, no classification, no attempt 
to ascertain by what means Nature, in its various 
forms, has been developed in the literary labours 
of past or present times ; hence the continual 
lament — 

But there is more than we can see 
And what we see we leave unsaid. 

Even Wordsworth, ' Nature's High-priest,' 
significantly observes in his ' Poet's Epitaph,' 
while extolling the poet's vocation — 

In common things that round us lie, 
Some random truths he can impart. 

But why 'random' and few, with Nature's 
c common things ' crowding daily before our 
eyes ? 

Hitherto, neither Nature nor Art has been 
considered capable of being so concentrated as to 
afford an independent study. This statement as 
affecting the former pursuit can scarcely be 
thought remarkable, considering the vast extent 
of Nature's dominions — three kingdoms, animal, 
vegetable, and mineral, each affording a multi- 
tude of subdivisions. 

Poetry, above all the fine arts, requires a 
special and peculiar knowledge of Universal 
Nature, to be obtained by an entirely different 
mode of pursuit from that adopted by the 
philosopher in his investigations. Some critics, 



( xxiii ) 

from not being cognizant of this difference, have 
expressed alarm, lest the progress of physical 
science should encroach on, and seriously affect 
the poet's pleasant realms of imagination and 
fancy, even to the extent of ultimately destroy- 
ing all fiction and romance ! 

It is obvious that no study of Nature, on how- 
ever excellent a system, can ever give poetic inspira- 
tion, any more than rules of art, irrespective of 
genius, can produce skilled artists; but it is 
equally true, that a just knowledge of the stages 
in the progress to great achievements, as exempli- 
fied in works of genius, whether of poetry or 
painting, is of paramount importance in enlarging 
and extending man's fertility of invention, 
ennobling his productions, and conveying through 
Art strong impressions of the liveliest charms of 
external and internal Nature. 

The knowledge of a well-ordered system, 
although it may serve to constitute an able critic, 
can never do more for the artist than assist his 
natural genius and talent ; where these are 
deficient, no system whatever can elevate medio- 
crity. And in like manner the founder of a 
system can rarely claim to have performed more 
than deducing from the labours of others a key 
or grammar for future guidance in some particular 
line of study. The author, therefore, although 
not himself a poet, hopes that by having 
classified and arranged a great number and variety 
of examples, and shown from them the several 
ways in which universal nature has affected 
poetic minds at different times and under many 
shades of circumstances, he has increased the 



XXIV 



facilities for future students of the same subject, to 
an extent which may eventually lead to the estab- 
lishment of an uniform method of Nature-Study. 

The illustrative poetical extracts offered in the 
present treatise mainly belong to the several 
departments and separate headings under which 
they are placed, but occasionally it will be found 
that some few might change places, as where 
they are partly descriptive and imaginative, or 
meditative; in this respect some licence must be 
claimed, although the great desire has been to 
observe an accurate distribution of subjects. Their 
variety makes them a valuable and useful study 
in themselves, and will convey more information 
than an elaborate essay without their aid. And 
in the arrangement adopted, the desire was to 
secure facility in any future reference, by simply 
noting a page and a number. 

The work itself aspires to little more than the 
dignity of being a grammar on the subject, 
having no especial doctrines to promulgate, or 
any marked criticisms to offer on poets, and their 
compositions generally as poetical productions ; 
in a few cases only, and for obvious reasons, 
have occasional criticisms been given, on some 
conceived objectionable rendering of subjects by 
distinguished poets, whose example in such re- 
spects might otherwise lead the unwary astray. 

One point may be deserving of a passing 
notice ; namely, that Nature is treated through- 
out in the neuter gender, and not as a deity, as 
we are speaking of the present material world, 
and not of the future or spiritual, nor of mind, 
but of matter only. 



( XXV ) 

In conclusion it only remains for the 
author to acknowledge his indebtedness to the 
literary stores of the British Museum, and es- 
pecially to the Collections of Campbell, Palgrave, 
Dr. Trench, and Wilson ; and among those not 
named in notices at the foot of the pages, The 
Naturalist's Poetical Companion, 1852 ; Aytoun 
and Martin's Poems and Ballads of Goethe, 1 859; 
The Christian Psalmist, 1826; Woodford's 
Book of Sonnets, 1841 ; and among Moxon's 
Miniature Poets, Selections from Tennyson, 1 865. 
And now in bidding adieu to his labour, 
although it is an approved saying that ' happy is 
the man who expecteth little' ; he cannot at the 
same time help thinking that, far happier is the 
author who, having ventured on a perilous sea, 
in the expectancy of adverse and stormy criticism, 
can nevertheless calmly console himself and re- 
ceive comfort from the reflection that, whatever 
may be his short coming in other respects, he has 
not been wanting in uprightness and honesty of 
purpose ; and a simple desire to give the world 
the fruits of some years' experience, research, 
study, and labour, in a novel though possibly too 
perilous adventure. 

H. D. 

Upper Norwood, Surrey. 
31st March, 1869. 



NATURE-STUDY 



Chapter I. 

Introduction. — Human rather than External Nature the 
province of ancient classical and of old English Poetry ; 
the vague and conflicting opinions of critics on the 
character, influences, and study of Nature, and conse- 
quent absence of any system. 

Every sentient being, from the first dawn of 
intelligence, recognises the existence of mind and 
matter ; of an inner and an outer world ; or, to 
adopt the quaint phraseology of the past, a 
microcosm and a macrocosm. Such acquaintance, 
however, with mankind and with the universe 
we inhabit, is of little avail to us, mentally, 
in the absence of systematic cultivation. It 
requires, therefore, an educated mind to make 
any advances in collecting and appropriating 
scattered facts ; and assorting and analysing the 
several groups of mental and material subjects 
that present themselves to daily observation. To 
ordinary minds all creation is mystery ; to cul- 
tivated minds there is much that is not quite 
inexplicable. The very knowledge of a man of 
science is a mystery to the ignorant multitude ; 
and consequently, although it is impossible to 
draw an exact line of demarcation, we should 

B 



2 NATURE-STUDY. 

nevertheless distinguish as far as possible between 
the estimation of mysteries derived from sources 
of ignorance and superstition, and those acknow- 
ledged as such by men of deep research. It is 
to the scholar, the man of extensive natural and 
acquired ability, that society owes its obligations 
for such classes of study as are comprehended 
under the general designations of Theology, 
Ethics, Metaphysics, Law, Fine Arts, Natural 
History, and other branches of Art and 
Science. 

To superficial observers there is nothing in 
external Nature which may not be easily learnt 
by any man of gifted mind, whose inclina- 
tions have a tendency that way; and who 
earnestly seeks by close association to put himself 
in constant communication with the visible world. 
And truly our early acquaintance with the gran- 
deur and loveliness of Nature, its ever-changing 
seasons, its varied aspects in different climes, and 
all that can recommend it by day, or render it 
imposingly solemn by night, goes far to justify 
such a favourable estimate of Nature's unassisted 
influences on a sensitive mind like that of the 
poet. But to those who have never closely 
considered the subject we might suggest the 
inquiry, Why should the poet any more than 
the painter be independent of a systematised plan 
in such a study of Nature as may cultivate his 
eye and mind, otherwise left to rove at ran- 
dom ? The Arts of Painting and of Music are 
each amenable to rigorous rules; rules derived 
from great masters, and acknowledged to be per- 
fectly accordant with Nature. Such systems do 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

not create talent, but they direct, improve, and 
facilitate its progress in whatever its possessor 
undertakes to perform. That Poetry should have 
remained so long neglected in the particular 
matter of Nature-Study excites our regret and 
surprise ; but that it has been so to the present 
time renders it only the more necessary to pre- 
pare the reader's mind, by laying before him, 
however briefly, a sketch of the past, in refer- 
ence to the poet's use of Nature in his composi- 
tions ; and of the conflicting opinions offered by 
critics in treating of the poet's practice in modern 
times, when adopting external nature for his 
subject, or writing under its presumed immediate 
inspiration. 

Nature, so far as the province of poetry is 
concerned, may be distinguished into, first- 
human nature ; and second, — all other created 
things ; or we might denominate these the 
Intellectual, and the Material or external world. 
The poet has always treated of mankind as pre- 
eminent ; and of other objects in creation as 
subordinate, not only in themselves, but in re- 
ference to man himself as their lord and master. 
Therefore ancient poetry, although it often 
touches on the sublimities of the universe, 
rarely dilates on its minor objects and appear- 
ances. It has been observed as remarkable that 
Horace, in his Art of Poetry, makes no re- 
ference whatever to external nature as an object 
of study, and we infer from that omission that 
it was considered either too insignificant in itself, 
or too unimportant to the poet who sought 
to attain a high order of poetical excellence. 

b 2 



4 NATURE-STUDY. 

Lucretius in his De Nat lira Rerum^ as translated 
by Creech, professes : — 

I treat of things abstruse, the Deity, 
The vast and steady motions of the sky ; 
The rise of things, how curious Nature joins 
The various seed, and in one mass combines 
The jarring principles : what new supplies 
Bring nourishment and strength : how she unties 
The Gordian knot, and the poor compound dies : 
Of what she makes, to what she breaks the frame, 
Call'd seeds or principles ; tho' either name 
We use promiscuously, the thing's the same. 

Book i. p. 3. 

And consequently his poem places before us in 
verse the scientific reveries of his period, about 
the 172nd Olympiad. 

The Georgics of Virgil are conceived in a 
happier strain, and, as a pastoral poem, that 
work is unrivalled for its many excellences, but 
it was long indeed before it incited to ever so 
remote an imitation. And here we may remark 
that the description of rural scenery, however 
graphic, is but the most simple and obvious pro- 
duction of Nature-Study ; it is but one of the 
many excellences that may be acquired by the 
well-informed and acute observer of the features, 
works, and constitution of Nature. 

In his Biograpbia Literaria, S. T. Coleridge 
takes occasion to notice, when speaking of the 
poets of Italy during the 15th and 16th centu- 
ries, that : — 

The imagery is almost always general ; sun, 
moon, flowers, breezes, murmuring streams, 
warbling songsters, delicious shades, lovely dam- 
sels, cruel as fair, nymphs, naiads, and goddesses, 
are the materials which are common to all, and 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

which each shaped and arranged according to his 
judgment or fancy, little solicitous to add or to 
particularise. 

Whether we consider the productions of the 
epic poets, as Homer, Virgil, or Tasso ; of the 
dramatists, as Sophocles, Euripides, Corneille, or 
Racine ; of the lyric poets, as Horace, Malherbe, 
or Rousseau ; of the satirists, as Juvenal, Persius, 
Boiieau, or Dryden ; of the writers of comedy, 
as Aristophanes, Plautus, Terence, or Moliere ; 
or the works of other distinguished poets in these 
several departments, we must be impressed with 
the fact that they have done little towards the 
poet's advancement in a knowledge of the great 
world of nature in its diversified aspects, and still 
less in its many exquisitely beautiful associations. 

Passing to our own literature, we find that the 
history of early English poetry acquaints us with 
the fact that, like the drama of the period in its 
stage appointments, very slight, imperfect scenery 
sufficed the public taste to realise the subjects 
and picturesque situations portrayed by the poet 
for their instruction or amusement. The free 
use made of natural scenery, producing a com- 
plete mental picture of particular objects, which 
conspicuously distinguishes our modern from 
older poetry and prose fictions, can scarcely be 
said with truth to date much, if any, before the 
time of Shakspeare; all anterior to his day 
was limited indeed in quantity, although each 
poet, contributing a portion, left to the arduous 
student some advantages to be derived from 
accumulated masses of occasional happily sug- 
gestive lines. It is remarkable, however, that, 



6 NATURE-STUDY. 

century after century, poets should have pro- 
ceeded so long and so persistently in studying 
nature through the poetical writings of accidental 
observers and prolific copyists, as if too timid to 
study nature for themselves at her own grand 
shrine. The consequence has been the institu- 
tion of an artificial study, as in a gallery of 
cabinet paintings ; rather than the adoption for 
themselves of self-reliant views of the universe 
of nature, in all its freshness of life, and growth, 
and glory. It would seem as though the atten- 
tion of the poet had been absorbed by, and be- 
come attached to, the study of human nature,* 
to the exclusion of all considerations concerning 
less noble objects. And truly it is not only a 
noble but an inexhaustible subject, one which 
never tires, be the object plebeian or polite ; 
humble or majestic. There is so much to unfold 
in the investigation of this microcosm ; and so 
much to depict in the drama of life, whether 
actual, or reduced to a mere stage-play, that 
the poet who successfully describes and faith- 
fully delineates the whole, will not fail to please 
his audience, although his rural scenes should 
chance to fall short of elaborate or exact natural 
scenery in green hills and daisy-dappled dales, 
dark forests and gay flowers, or ocean, lake, and 
rippling stream. 

:;: On this very topic we find it noted in the Conversations 
with Goethe, from the German of Eckermann, published in 
1839, that the great poet observed: — 

' It is natural to man to regard himself as the object of 
the creation, and to think of all things in relation to him- 
self, and the degree in which they can serve and be useful 
to him.' 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

It would be needless for our present purpose 
to attempt a history of poetry, or a criticism of 
poetical composition : such a course could only 
serve to amplify without illustrating the main 
topic under consideration. It is admitted beyond 
dispute that the free use of external nature in 
descriptive and other poetry, however observable 
in the productions of a few distinguished poets 
of the olden time, of all classes and countries, has 
remained until of late years a comparatively 
untracked province. 

In the Welsh Triads, as quoted by Dr. 
Southey in a note to Madoc, it is stated in re- 
ference to the poetical character : — 

' The three primary requisites of poetical 
genius, are : An eye that can see Nature, a heart 
that can feel Nature, and a resolution that dares 
follow Nature.' 

No doubt, without eye, heart, or resolution, 
little or nothing will be effected; for what 
can a blind and timorous man expect but a 
' slough of despond ' ? Yet surely some prepara- 
tive is needful, were it only direction as to some 
educational course to be pursued. The painter 
must commence his course of study by learning 
perspective and the elements of drawing ; and 
the statuary by actually dissecting the human 
frame. How is the Poet to study Nature ? 

It is curious and interesting to remark how 
many poets once popular are now forgotten, not- 
withstanding they appeared to evince sensibility 
to the grand and beautiful in Nature ; and left 
in song harmonious and clever compositions in 
proof of their talent in that particular accom- 



8 NATURE-STUDY. 

plishment. But have not such versifiers mostly 
been copyists, whose grace and eloquence have 
made even what they borrowed appear as their 
own ? An artist who should be educated ex- 
clusively through his being engaged in copying 
the works of approved masters would unques- 
tionably acquire some tolerable skill in art. And 
so also it might happen with a mediocre poet, 
and not without some occasional good effect, if 
we except the sacrifice of novelty and origin- 
ality. 

As regards a course of studying Nature for 
the purposes of poetry, it does not, on a casual 
consideration of the subject, appear to offer any 
insuperable difficulties. And such probably 
might be the case were not the issue so com- 
plicated as it is, at present, with opinions 
so adverse as to appear little other than 
' darkness visible.' The real difficulty there- 
fore lies at the very threshold of our inquiry, 
as we shall better understand after perusing 
the opinions of commonly approved judges, 
and carefully considering their conflicting criti- 
cisms. 

The following views of the subject are derived 
from a popular source of instruction,* and fairly 
express prevalent opinions : — 

The poet who would excel in description, 
should exercise his talents in the judicious selec- 
tion and picturesque display of small groups, or 
individual objects, and for this purpose he should 
draw forth what is valuable, even from the rudest 
materials ; discriminating, in every surrounding 

* Rees' Cyclopaedia. 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

object, those attributes which can be rendered 
subservient to his art. 

Thomson, it is said, was accustomed to wander 
whole days and nights in the country ; and in 
such sequestered walks, he acquired, by the 
most minute attention, a knowledge of all the 
mysteries of Nature. These he has wrought into 
his Seasons, with the colouring of Titian, the 
wildness of Salvator Rosa, and the energy of 
Raphael. Mil con appears to have been no less 
familiar with Nature than Thomson, and equally 
happy in his portraits of her most pleasing forms. 
He catches every distinguishing feature; and 
gives to what he describes such glowing tints of 
life and reality, that we have it, as it were, in 
full view before our eyes. How perfect is the 
image in the following lines ! — 

The swan, with arched neck 



Between her white wings mantling, proudly rows 
Her state, with oary feet. 

It is important (it is added) that the poet should 
acquire an extensive acquaintance with science in 
general, and with the various branches of natural 
history, that he may not, through mere ignorance, 
deviate from nature as it actually exists ; never- 
theless it is not expected, that, on all occasions, 
he should be restricted within the precise boun- 
daries of truth, nor indeed is it possible thus to 
restrain a poetic writer of lively and creative 
fancy. 

The course of study here recommended is, to 
wander for ' days and nights in the country,' 
exercising ' the most minute attention ;' with 
c a knowledge of all the mysteries of nature ' 



I O NATU RE-STUDY. 

for our reward. But this is not all, ' science 
in general and the various branches of natural 
history ' are recommended as a useful if not 
an absolutely necessary adjunct. 

The remaining remarks from the same source 
are written in much the same spirit : — 

Who can notice the countenance of an ox, 
without perceiving that it displays meekness, 
patience, and the most inoffensive disposition, 
thus described by Thomson, 

And the plain ox, 
That honest, harmless, guileless animal ; 

and that the eyes of this animal are of no un- 
usual dimension. Nevertheless, in many versions 
of Homer, that divine poet, so conversant with 
zoology, is made to style the artful, proud, and 
passionate queen of the gods, ' ox-eyed Juno ;' 
a mistake of the translator's (says the critic) 
from the want of attention to nature. But 
Dr. Young has also fallen into an error, more 
pardonable, in his paraphrase on Job ; because 
an English poet, who has never seen the croco- 
dile, might be ignorant that his eyes are remark- 
ably small. 

Among other vulgar errors of certain poets 
are noticed : — 

i. The supposition that the fertilizing quality 
of snow arises from nitrous salts. 

2. The idea of male light being communicated 

by the sun, and female light by the moon, 
as adopted by Milton. And — 

3. The harmony of the spheres, of which 

Milton has given such a view as wants 
nothing but philosophical truth to render it 



INTRODUCTION. I I 

delightful ; and Pope supposed that it is 
possible the human ear might have been so 
constituted, as to have been sensible of it. 
The poet should, therefore (this critic con- 
cludes), be well versed in the science of physics, 
not only because he can seldom deviate from it 
without injury to his compositions, but because 
these may derive from it sublimity, embellish- 
ment, or grace. 

What between wandering about the country, 
and acquiring an intimacy with natural history 
and physical science, the poet will have some- 
thing to exercise his patience in adopting the 
suggestions thus offered. 

About the year 1 8 1 9 a controversy arose be- 
tween the Rev. W. L. Bowles, Lord Byron, and 
others on the opinion the former strongly ex- 
pressed in a critique on Pope as the poet rather 
of Art than of Nature. The editor of Camp- 
bell's Essay on English Poetry says : — Mr. 
Bowles's position is this, that Pope saw rural or 
field nature through what Dryden calls the 
spectacles of books ; that he did not see it for 
himself, as Homer, Virgil, Chaucer, Shakspeare, 
and Milton saw it, — as it was seen by Thomson, 
and Cowper ; that his country nature is by re- 
flection, cold, unwarming, and dead-coloured ; 
that he did not make what Addison calls 
additions to nature, as every great poet has done ; 
that Dr. Blacklock's descriptive nature is as 
good, who was blind from his birth ; that Jlocks 
that graze the tender green in Pope graze 
audibly in true descriptive writers ; and that his 
paradise had been a succession of alleys, plat- 



I 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

formSj and quincunxes — a Hagley, or a Stowe, 
not an Eden, as Milton has made it. All this 
is true enough, but its importance has been over- 
rated. 

True it is (he continues) that imagination, a 
nobler kind of fancy, is the first great quality of 
a poet — that when it is found united to all the 
lesser qualities required, it forms what Cowley 
calls poetry and sanctity, Mr. Campbell has pro- 
perly extended and written a defence of Pope, 
which will exist as long as Eloisa's Letter, or 
any poem of its great writer. 

Gray, whose scattered touches of external na- 
ture are exquisitely true, has laid it down as a 
rule that description , the most graceful ornament 
of poetry, as he calls it, should never form the 
bulk or subject of a poem. 

Bowles suggests as a rule that c All images 
drawn from what is beautiful or sublime in the 
works of nature are more beautiful and sublime 
than images drawn from art, and are therefore 
more poetical.' The argument is of little con- 
sequence for our present purpose in defining 
a course of Nature-Study, but it serves to 
show most clearly how unsettled critics of all 
classes have been in the expression of their 
opinions on the subject of Nature in connection 
with poetical compositions. 

Hans C. Oersted, the author of The Soul in 
Nature, treats of the Spiritual in the Material, 
of the relation between natural science and 
poetry, and on the unbeautiful in nature, among 
other topics. He says : ' I must repeat, that it is 
only from the future that we must expect the 



INTRODUCTION. 1 3 

comprehensive and poetical application of an 
insight into Nature. 5 He advocates also the em- 
ployment of Nature in scientific light, and 
mentions Goethe as an example of a writer 
attempting such a method. 

Had it not been (he says) that that great poet 
entirely misunderstood mathematical physics, 
perhaps misled by the one-sided manner of 
representation of certain philosophers, he would 
probably have done much more for the poetical 
representation of the views of nature. 

The voluminous writings of Saint Pierre, once 
exceedingly popular, now seldom find readers. In 
his Harmonies of Nature, three volumes, ,8vo, 
he first gives a general view of his subject, then 
addresses Venus, describes the sky, the sun, and 
the harmonies of man and animals with plants. 
He finds thirteen harmonies in the vegetable 
kingdom, enters into a minute description of 
corn, of plants, and the moon, and traces re- 
semblances between flowers and stars. 

Apostrophising Nature he exclaims : — 

Daughters of eternal Wisdom, harmonies of 
Nature, all men are your children ; they stand 
perpetually in need of your assistance ; without 
you they would be naked, wretched, discordant 
in language, thought, and feeling ; but you call 
them, by their wants, to enjoyment of every 
kind ; by their differences, to the necessity of 
concord; by their weakness, to the acquisition of 
empire, &c, &c. 

His Studies of Nature, five volumes, 8vo, is 
arranged on a very comprehensive plan, enume- 
rating blessings bestowed by Nature, giving an 



1 4 NATURE-STUDY. 

account of the globe, correspondence between 
plants and the elements ; and of animals and 
their relations to the elements. In the fifth 
portion he treats of man, remarking : — 

We shall observe that his eyes are turned, not 
towards heaven, as the poets, and even some 
philosophers allege, but to the horizon ; so that 
he may view at once the heaven which illu- 
minates and the earth which supports him. 

Such a stiff-necked and far-seeing creature is 
man, viewed according to this system. 

As an eleventh study we have a discourse re- 
lating to ' Human Harmonies of Plants.' After 
alluding to different herbs, shrubs, and trees, he 
concludes : — 

c Such, then, are the general dispositions of 
vegetables upon the earth, relatively to the occa- 
sion which man had to range over it. The 
herbage serves as a carpet to his feet ; the shrub- 
bery as a scaling-ladder to his hands ; and the 
trees are as so many parasols over his head.* 
Though this manner of studying the works of 
Nature (he adds) be now held in contempt by 
most naturalists, to it, however, shall our re- 
searches be limited.' 

The poet therefore, would gain little by giving 
his days and nights to either such ' Harmonies ' 
or ' Studies,' which, like too many works of pro- 
mise on such topics of this class, scarcely repay 
perusal, being made up of ill-arranged, incon- 

* The spirit of Goethe's philosophy avowed, ' The sepa- 
ration of subject from object, the faith that each creature 
exists for its own sake, and that cork-trees do not grow 
merely that we may have stoppers for our bottles.' — Con- 
versations with Goethe. Boston, 1839. 



INTRODUCTION. 1 5 

elusive matter, affording only a kind of literary 
and scientific gossip. 

Dr. Aikin,* being strongly impressed with the 
insipidity of the poetry of the 18th century, 
wrote an essay purposely to instruct the poet in at 
least one branch of Nature- Study, to excite to the 
cultivation of natural history in its application 
to poetry. He was wearied and disgusted with 
the perpetual repetition of the same images, clad 
in almost the same language. He also observes, 
in agreement with Warton, that almost every 
poet, Thomson excepted, had, in the treatment 
of rural beauty, copied his images from Theo- 
critus, without ever looking into the face of 
Nature; and that this servility of imitation 
had prevailed more in this than in any other 
department of poetry. From a review of the 
poetical style of Eastern poets, bold, ardent, 
and precipitate ; the celebrated Book of Job ; 
and Virgil's natural descriptions, he concludes 
that the accurate and scientific study of Nature 
would obviate many of the defects usually dis- 
coverable in poetical compositions. He considers, 
however, that not every part of Nature seems 
capable of affording poetical imagery, among 
which he instances trees, and the vegetable 
creation ; and he finds the mineral kingdom still 
more sterile. But in zoology he observes a prin- 
cipal and unequivocal charm, the animal race in 
common with man having almost universally 
somewhat of moral and intellectual character. 
He therefore greatly admires Virgil for the 

"An Essay on the application of Natural History to Poetry, 
i2mo. Warrington, 1777. 



1 6 NATURE-STUDY. 

sublime and vigorous imagination exhibited in 
the Georgics, the whole of the 4th Book of 
which is a complete history of the bee. Pliny 
he considers too, as a naturalist, possessed of all 
the fire and elevation of a poet. But Thomson's 
Seasons are represented as superior to the Geoigics, 
the poet well meriting Pennant's epithet of The 
Naturalisfs Poet. He also remarks that such 
is the variety of Nature that we need not be 
apprehensive of original pictures, even of the 
same subject, falling into uninteresting sameness ; 
and notices that, although a single grain of sand 
is of itself too minute for any purpose of 
description or comparison, yet c the sands of the 
sea shore ' form an image of multitude suffici- 
ently grand and elevated for the highest species 
of composition. And from all his observations 
he draws the conclusion that, every scene of 
Nature, foreign or domestic, affords objects of 
which an accurate survey may furnish new ideas 
of grandeur and beauty. 

The sum of Dr. Aikin's recommendation is — 
Let the descriptive poet study to become a pro- 
found, or at least a tolerable, zoologist. And 
having a liking for that pursuit, he does not 
particularly recommend Botany, Horticulture, or 
Agriculture : the different orders of plants, to- 
gether with the characters of the genera and 
species, need not absorb the poet's lucubrations. 
But the Acrita, Nematoneura, Homogangliata, 
Heterogangliata, Yertebrata, &c, of the animal 
kingdom he must particularly study and closely 
investigate. If the poet must become a student 
of science, he clearly must not restrict his obser- 



INTRODUCTION. 1 7 

vations to Zoology to the neglect of Astronomy, 
Geography, Geology, and many other mind- 
enlarging studies. 

Dr. Aikin's essay is interesting and instructive, 
so far as it tends to check careless and incorrect 
descriptions. A work of a similar kind by Dr. 
R. H. Newell, entitled The Zoology of the 
English Poets, appeared in 1845, in which are 
noticed the inaccurate descriptions of the manners 
and habits of several kinds of birds, insects, 
reptiles, and mammalia. Fortunately the list of 
offenders is not very voluminous, but it includes 
Shakspeare, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Prior, 
Watts, Smart, Darwin, Rogers, Churchill, 
Thomson, Gay, Swift, Waller, Young, Drayton, 
Collins, Coleridge, Southey, Montgomery, and 
Sir W. Scott ; — an amount of authority suffi- 
cient to induce modern poets to rest satisfied with 
fabulous accounts of the ant ; vague descrip- 
tions of the bee ; erroneous opinions of blight ; 
superstitious fancies about the death-watch ; 
mistakes about the gad-fly ; incorrect notions 
about the glow-worm ; and so on throughout 
their versions of what they design to be a veri- 
table natural history. It is thus that the poet is, 
and has long been, lectured here a little and there 
a little, but no system has been presented to 
him for his regular and diligent study of natural 
phenomena. 

It has been well observed that all knowledge 
is available to the poet, and of infinite value to 
him in the conduct of his compositions ; but the 
particular knowledge which should take the first 
and foremost place in his education, giving him 

c 



1 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

an acquaintance with and ability to acquire and 
apply instruction derived from the pure fount of 
Nature itself, is unknown, and has not hitherto 
been so much as attempted. 

It is remarkable (says Wordsworth in the sup- 
plement to his preface) that, excepting the 
Nocturnal Reverie of Lady Winchelsea, and a 
passage or two in the Windsor Forest of Pope, 
the poetry of the period between the publication 
of Paradise Lost and The Seasons does not con- 
tain a single new image of external nature, and 
scarcely presents a familiar one from which it 
can be inferred that the eye of the poet had been 
steadily fixed upon his object, much less that his 
feelings had urged him to work upon it in the 
spirit of genuine imagination. To what a low 
state knowledge of the most obvious and im- 
portant phenomena had sunk, is evident from 
the style in which Dryden has executed a de- 
scription of Night in one of his tragedies, and 
that in which Pope has translated the celebrated 
moonlight scene in the Iliad. A blind man, in 
the habit of attending accurately to descriptions 
casually dropped from the lips of those around 
him, might easily depict those appearances with 
more truth. Dryden's lines are vague, bombastic, 
and senseless; those of Pope, though he had 
Homer to guide him, are throughout false and 
contradictory. The verses of Dryden, once 
highly celebrated, are now forgotten ; those of 
Pope still retain c their hold upon public estima- 
tion,' nay, there is not a passage of descriptive 
poetry which at this day finds so many and such 
ardent admirers. 



INTRODUCTION. 1 9 

Dryden describes Night as though — 

Nature's self lay dead ; 

The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head ; 
The little birds in dreams their songs repeat, 
And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat. 

Pope's version of Homer's Moonlight Scene 
informs us that the stars — 

O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 
And tip with silver every mountain's head ; 
Then shine the vales, and rocks in prospect rise ; 

while swains 

Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful night. 

Dr. Southey, criticising the scene that Pope has 
so imperfectly described, says : — 

Here are the planets rolling round the moon ; 
here is the pole gilt and glowing with stars ; 
here are trees made yellow, and mountains tipped 
with silver, by the moonlight ; and here is the 
whole sky in a flood of glory ; appearances not 
to be found in Homer or in Nature ; finally these 
gilt and glowing skies, at the very time when 
they are thus pouring forth a flood of glory, are 
represented as a blue vault. The astronomy in 
these lines would not appear more extraordinary 
to Dr. Herschel than the imagery to every 
person who has observed a moonlight scene. 

Along with these notices of Wordsworth's and 
Southey's strictures, appended to Campbell's 
Essay on English Poetry, 1841, occurs an 
editorial note to the effect that — 

With Shakspeare it is otherwise: his in- 
animate nature is unsurpassed for truthfulness 
and distinct poetical personation. Description in 
Shakspeare is a shadow received by the ear and 
perceived by the eye, 

c 2 



20 NATURE-STUDY. 

' A shadow received by the ear and perceived 
by the eye ' is a novelty. Why are we left to 
guess at a meaning, when something is obviously 
meant ; why not express it in plain prose ? 

According to Wordsworth and Dr. Southey, 
the distinguishing fault of Dryden and Pope 
was their substituting art for nature; and the 
critiques of both apply solely to descriptive 
poetry, in which there was an utter deficiency 
for a period of over seventy-five years, as esti- 
mated by Wordsworth, poetry being devoid of 
even ' a single new image ' until the publication 
of The Seasons, when Nature once more assumed 
the prerogative to be the poet's goddess. 

On this subject we cannot do better here than 
direct attention to the observations offered by 
Wordsworth in his preface, when he says : 

c The powers requisite for the production of 
poetry are : Firstly, those of Observation and De- 
scription, ue, the ability to observe with accuracy 
things as they are in themselves, and with 
fidelity to describe them, unmodified by any 
passion or feeling existing in the mind of the 
describer : whether the things depicted be actually 
present to the senses, or have a place only in the 
memory. This power, though indispensable to 
a poet, is one which he employs only in submis- 
sion to necessity, and never for a continuance of 
time : as its exercise supposes all the higher 
qualities of the mind to be passive, and in a state 
of subjection to external objects, much in the 
same way as the translator or engraver ought to 
be to his original. Secondly, Sensibility — which 
the more exquisite it is the wider will be the 



INTRODUCTION. 2 1 

range of a poet's perceptions, and the more will 
he be incited to observe objects, both as they 
exist in themselves and as re-acted upon by his 
own mind. Thirdly, Reflection — which makes 
the poet acquainted with the value of actions, 
images, thoughts, and feelings; and assists the 
sensibility in perceiving their connection with 
each other. Fourthly, Imagination and Fancy — 
to modify, to create, and to associate. Fifthly, 
Invention — by which characters are composed 
out of materials supplied by observation, whether 
of the poet's own heart and mind, or of external 
life and nature.' 

These five powers, with Judgment, as a final 
requisite, close this poet's observations ; and it is 
greatly to be regretted that, except from his 
poems themselves, we are left without any more 
clear guide to his own system of studying 
Nature, supposing he had actually formed one. 
We gather from his preface that he indicates, 
as requisites for description, the observance of 
objects, and reflection to render our acquirements 
useful : but how actually to study animate and 
inanimate Nature he never once suggests ; nor 
have we any reason to believe that any such 
purpose was contemplated by him. In The 
Excursion he represents The Solitary complain- 
ing— 

Of these unimaginative days : 

But he nevertheless enters on those — 

strains of apt discourse 

Which Nature's various objects might supply. 

These are stated to be — 



Birds and beasts, 

And the mute fish that glances in the stream., 



2 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

And harmless reptile coiling in the sun, 
And gorgeous insect hovering in the air, 
The fowl domestic, and the household dog. 

Now it is in vain that the studious reader 
seeks to be informed about this c apt discourse ; 5 
discourse which could turn to account for any 
poetical purpose such objects as those just offered 
to our notice. Search as we may, we still 
find ourselves wondering and wandering. And 
if we seek the aid of commentators, they take 
such flights that they cannot address us in any 
other than 'unknown tongues;' we, therefore, 
listen to them in vain. 

It is not permitted to the critic to construe too 
rigidly any poetic expression of sentiments and 
feelings in regard to the wide world of Nature, 
therefore we must remain in a great measure 
passive when Wordsworth in Lines written in 
1798 a few miles above 1 intern Abbey, 
remarks — 

While with an eye made quiet by the power 
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things : 

and proceeds to state that he is still — 

A lover of the meadows and the woods, 
And mountains ; and of all that we behold 
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
Of eye and ear, both what they half create 
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognise 
In nature and the language of the sense, 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart and soul, 
Of all my moral being. 

This impassioned love of nature (says Henry 
Taylor*) is interfused through the whole of 
Wordsworth's system of thought, filling up all 

* Notes from Books. By Henry Taylor, 8vo., 1848. 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

interstices, penetrating all recesses, colouring all 
media, supporting, associating, and giving co- 
herency and mutual relevancy to it in all its parts. 
Though man is his subject, yet is man never 
presented to us divested of his relations with 
external nature. Man is the text, but there is 
always a running commentary of natural pheno- 
mena. In his great work, ' the mind of man ' 
is, as he announces, c the haunt and the main 
region of his song ; ' but the mind of man, as 
exhibited by him, whatever else it may be, 
hardly ever fails to be the mirror of natural 
objects, and more or less the creature of their 
power. 

The vivacity with which he is accustomed to 
apprehend this power of inanimate nature over 
the human mind has indeed led him in some 
cases, we venture to think, too far ; this is, in 
his poetical licences, or in that particular poetic 
licence by which sensation is attributed to inani- 
mate objects — the particular feelings which they 
excite in the spectator being ascribed to them- 
selves, as if they were sentient beings ; as — 

The moon doth with delight 

Look round her when the heavens are bare. 

Ye fountains, meadows, hills and groves, 
Think not of any severing of your loves. 

In The Excursion — 

Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth, 
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay 
In gladness and deep joy. 

Taylor, who was an early critic of Words- 
worth's poetry in the Quarterly Review, casually 
observes that it was far from his purpose to re- 



24 NATURE-STUDY. 

present the poet as impeccable, but rather as one 
who wrote for posterity, and whose habit of con- 
templating natural objects in their causative 
character, he can perceive, may not only make 
all Nature seem to live in the eyes of the poet, 
but may also teach the philosopher to penetrate 
farther into the passive properties of living beings 
— their properties not only as agents but as 
objects. 

The opinion expressed in Taylor's critical 
view of the subject in connection with the 
external world of matter might, indeed, without 
a shade of inconsistency, be applied to the power- 
ful influences which the pyramids, the buried 
cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, or the classic 
ruins of Rome, exercise over our mental constitu- 
tion. But let us not blindly attribute to rocks 
and ruins what is alone the inalienable posses- 
sion of cultivated intellect. 

Confining our observations on Wordsworth 
entirely to what we find in his poems respecting 
Nature, we think we may, without incurring 
the charge of irreverence for his genius, state that 
he is deficient in the variety of Shakspeare, the 
terseness of Thomson, and the spirituality of 
Keats or of Shelley. We admit his bursts 
of sublimity and beauty, without being highly 
imaginative ; or, we shall perhaps be bet'er un- 
derstood if we qualify this last remark by adding 
that, considering his almost exclusive study of 
Nature through years of a long life, he has not 
accomplished much beyond what other poets of 
the age have realised, who wrote without the 
same advantages of open country experiences. 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

So far as being elaborate in description where 
other poets have been concise can be accepted as 
a recommendation, he most assuredly excels ; 
but for any special mark of originality due to 
his individual acquaintance with, and observa- 
tion of, Nature, it would be difficult to adduce 
striking examples; nor can we find in the 
criticisms of his most devoted admirers other 
offers of proof than such as present comparativelv 
meagre results, when we consider the laborious 
nature of the process by which they must have 
been produced. Now although the effect of 
majesty is to elevate the mind, there is no abso- 
lute occasion for the small or minute to lessen its 
perception and production of beauty. It would 
seem, indeed, as if Nature, however apparently 
rude and rough in much that is sublime in its 
landscapes, yet descends in its microscopic pro- 
ductions to a marvellous degree of perfection in 
forms of animate and inanimate matter. Minute- 
ness, littleness, smallness, generally offend under 
Wordsworth's treatment. In his poem To the 
small Celandine, undoubtedly intended to be a 
most finished piece, addressed as it was to the 
flower of his adoption, he pictures to us — 

The children build their bowers, 



Sticking kerchief-pots of mold 
All about their full-blown flowers, 
Thick as sheep in shepherd's fold ! 

Describing c A whirl-blast from behind the hill/ 
he observes — 

the spacious floor 

With withered leaves is covered o'er. 
You could not lay a hair between : 
And all the year the bower is green. 



26 NATURE-STUDY. 

But see ! where'er the hailstones drop. 
The withered leaves all skip and hop. 
* * * * >:< * 

The leaves in myriads jump and spring. 

In his poem The Reverie of poor Susan^ we 
have another kind of minute detail — 

At the corner of Wood-street, when daylight appears, 
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years. 

In the first part of his Hartleap Well he in- 
dulges in minutiae of measurement — 

And climbing up the hill — (it was at least 
Four roods of sheer ascent) — 

In the second part he observes — 

As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair, 
It chanced that I saw, standing in a dell, 
Three aspens, at three corners of a square ; 
And one, not four yards distant, near a well : 

and again, further on — 

And he, perhaps, for aught we know, was born 
Not half a furlong from that self-same spring. 

Alfred Tennyson, in his Godiva, had possibly 
the foregoing poem in mind when he wrote — 

His beard a foot before him, and his hair 
A yard behind. 

The danger of studying Nature through the 
medium of books, or of poetry alone, is that 
which is well known to be the common failing 
of mere copyists, who seize on trifling peculiari- 
ties, often those which the poet himself would 
have repudiated, and then imagine that their ex- 
travagances are the purest possible emanations 
from a healthy enthusiasm. 

We approach the interesting, if not sufficiently 
instructive, observations of Professor Arnold, in 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

his Essays on Criticism, 1865, with a full con- 
viction that what he states with so much ability 
is offered without any reservation. Speaking of 
Maurice de Guerin, a young French poet, he 
observes : — 

The grand power of poetry is its interpreta- 
tive power ; not a power of drawing out in 
black and white an explanation of the mystery 
of the universe, but the power of so dealing 
with things as to awaken in us a wonderfully 
full, new, and intimate sense of them, and of 
our relations with them. When this sense is 
awakened in us, as to objects without us, we 
feel ourselves to be in contact with the essential 
nature of those objects, to be no longer be- 
wildered and oppressed by them, but to have 
their secret, and to be in harmony with them ; 
and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no other 
can. 

Poetry, indeed, interprets in another way 
beside this ; but one of its two ways of inter- 
preting, of exercising its highest power, is by 
awakening this sense in us. 

Without making it a matter of inquiry 
c whether this sense is illusive, whether it can be 
proved not to be illusive, whether it does abso- 
lutely make us possess the real nature of things ;' 
he says that c poetry can awaken it in us, 
and that to awaken it is one of the highest 
powers of poetry.' He adds : — 

The interpretations of science do not give us 
this intimate sense of objects as the interpreta- 
tions of poetry give it ; they appeal to a limited 
faculty and not to the whole man. It is not 



28 NATURE-STUDY. 

Linnaeus, or Cavendish, or Guvier, who gives us 
the true sense of animals, or water, or plants, 
who seizes their secret for us, who makes us par- 
ticipate in their life : it is Shakspeare with his — 

daffodils 



That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty ; 

it is Wordsworth, with his — 

voice heard 

In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, 
Breaking the silence of the seas 
Among the farthest Hebrides ; 

it is Keats, with his — 

moving waters at their priestlike task, 



Of cold ablution round Earth's human shores ; 

it is Chateaubriand, with his c cime indeterminee 
des for its ;' it is Senancour, with his mountain 
birch-tree : ' Cette Score e blanche, lisse et crevassee ; 
cette tige agreste ; ces branches qui s^inclinent 
vers la terre ; la mobllite des feuilles, et tout 
cet abandon, s implicit e de la nature, attitude des 
deserts? 

What we are disappointed with in this argu- 
ment is in reference to the c power of so dealing 
with things [the universe and its objects] as to 
awaken a full, new, and intimate sense of them.' 
However imperfectly told, it might have led to 
some useful end; but of this important 'power' we 
learn nothing beyond being assured that it exists ; 
and that it is a c sense ' which may be ' awakened 
in us, but whether it must come with our infant 
breath, or may be acquired by a course of study, 
is all matter of guess-work. This is the more un- 
fortunate and distressing to the aspiring genius, 



INTRODUCTION. 2g 

who is assured that with such a possession he 
would c be no longer bewildered and oppressed by 
[objects without us] but have their secret, and 
be in harmony with them, a, feeling which calms 
and satisfies as no other can.' And as if only to 
perplex the more rather than relieve us, here we 
have again to deal with a ' secret,' and one no less 
than that of the universe and its objects. If a 
secret, there is an end of the matter; if not a 
secret, as we presume it is not to those who pro- 
fess to know of so much about it, will no man 
boldly blurt it out to the world ; or is it the poet's 
Alcahest, reserved for communication to those 
only who have been duly initiated and sanctified? 

Science is so completely the antipodes of 
poetry, that two such opposite poles are never 
likely to embrace and salute each other ; but 
laying aside the poetical side of the question, we 
confess our belief that if anything can be ration- 
ally stated on the subject it would be as well to 
state it at once, no matter how prosaically, so 
that it was critically correct. But all cloud- 
writing, all mystery, all notion of secrets relative 
to man's performances, to human arts, to the ex- 
ercise of our intellectual faculties, we wish to see 
for ever banished from prose compositions, leaving 
to poetry alone a course as free as air and as 
boundless as creation. 

With praiseworthy candour, Professor Shairp, 
the author of Studies in Poetry, says — - 

About Nature it has become so much the 
fashion to rave, there has been so much counter- 
feit enthusiasm, that one almost dreads speaking 
of it. But whatever it may be to most men, 



JO NATURE-STUDY. 

there can be no doubt that free nature, moun- 
tain solitudes, were as essential to Wordsworth's 
heart as the air to his lungs. 

He concludes : — 

The ideal light which Wordsworth sheds 
brings out only more vividly the real heart of 
Nature, the inmost feeling, which is really 
there, and is recognised by Wordsworth's eye 
in virtue of the kinship between Nature and his 
soul. 

As we cannot believe there is here any c coun- 
terfeit enthusiasm,' much less any tendency ' to 
rave,' we soberly ask to be informed what is 
meant by c the real heart of nature,' its c in- 
most feeling ' ? — Is it positively meant that these 
really exist in every mountain and lake, and 
all that compounds this vast universe ? A 
heart to be recognised by any eye physical or 
mental, a heart which can have c kinship ' with 
any poet and ' his soul ' ? 

Professor Shairp further observes that — 

To most men the material world is a heavy, 
gross, dead mass, earth, a ball of black mud, 
painted here and there with some colour ; 
Wordsworth felt it to be a living, breathing 
power, not dead, but full of strange life ; his eye 
almost saw into it, as if it were transparent. 

The opinion of a writer who appears to be 
thoroughly on his guard against any other than 
a quiet, sober view of the subject, sadly perplexes 
us when he treats of the c material world ' as 
being to the poet c a living, breathing power, 
not dead, but full of strange life,' and that c his 
eye almost saw into it, as if it were transparent.' 



INTRODUCTION. 3 1 

This may be poetry, or romance, but it certainly 
is not criticism. It is said of a certain fish that 
it disperses a dark, inky fluid when pursued, 
thereby being lost in darkness of its own creating ; 
and it is thus, too often, that, when we are pro- 
mised explanations we are confused amidst a 
burst of exulting exclamations which only be- 
cloud and conceal from view the object of which 
we were in pursuit, and of which we were pro- 
mised a plain-spoken exposition. 

So many writers, so many different opinions 
on the subject of Nature-study. Mr. Charles 
Kingsley in his Miscellanies, 1859, emphatically 
declares it to be his belief, that — 

It is the mystic who will describe Nature 
most simply, because he sees most in her, because 
he is most ready to believe that she will reveal 
to others the same message which she has re- 
vealed to him. Men like Behmen, Novalis, and 
Fourier, who can soar into the inner cloud-world 
of man's spirit (he asserts) will most humbly and 
patiently c consider the lilies of the field, how 
they grow.' He claims for Tennyson this mys- 
tical character, to account for his having become 
c the greatest naturalistic poet which England has 
seen for several centuries.' 

Is the student then to study Dr. Henry More, 
Jacob Behmen, Emanuel Swedenborg, and other 
similar mystical writers ? To such shifts are 
critics driven in the absence of a recognised 
standard ; like bewildered travellers, each in 
some path or other, but always circling, or run- 
ning off at a tangent. 

It is a favourite metaphor to compare Nature 



3 2 



NATURE-STUDY. 



to a Book. In Du Bart as bis Divine We ekes 
and Works, 4-to, 1605, translated by Joshua 
Sylvester, this figure is literally depicted as fol- 
lows : — 

The World's a book in folio, printed all 
With God's great works in letters capital : 
Each creature, is a page ; and each effect, 
A fair character, void of all defect. 

But, as young truants, toying in the schools, 
Instead of learning, learn to play the fools: 
We gaze but on the babies and the cover, 
The gaudy flowers, and edges gilded over ; 
And never farther for our lesson look 
Within the volume of this various book : 
Where learned Nature rudest ones instructs, 
That, by His wisdom, God the World conducts. 

To read and understand this ponderous 
' folio,' we are not obliged to understand ' each 
stranger's gibberish,' nor Hebrew, Greek, or any 
other language, but simply require c the specta- 
cles of faith,' then with the poet we may ' be- 
hold,' — at least so he professes, — 

Th' Orb from his birth, in 's ages manifold. 

Wordsworth, in the first Book of his Excur- 
sion, alludes to c a soul communing with the 
glorious universe.' He represents the Wanderer 
while but eighteen years of age, as being c pos- 
sessed,' — and his sensibility to Nature's teachings 
such, that — 

Thus informed, 
He had small need of books. 

In Antony and Cleopatra, Shakspeare pre- 
sents the Soothsayer as remarking: — 

In Nature's infinite book of secrecy, 
A little I can read. 



INTRODUCTION. 33 

Bryant, in the poem entitled Thanatopsis^ ob- 
serves : — 

To him who in the love of Nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language ; 

* * # * 

Go forth, under the open sky, and list 
To Nature's teachings, while from all around, — 
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air, — 
Comes a still voice 

Emerson, throughout an entire Essay on Na- 
ture^ comprising eight chapters and their Intro- 
duction, amidst abundance of extraneous facts 
never once hints at a process of study. He 
says justly enough : — 

To speak truly, few adult persons can see 
Nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At 
least they have a very superficial seeing. 

He remarks : — Every rational creature has all 
Nature for his dowry and estate. It is his if he 
will. 

But unfortunately no man can possess Nature 
at will, any more than he can possess landed 
estates without title-deeds, or high art without 
instruction, study, and practice. 

He professes that: — 'Nature is the symbol 
of Spirits/ which he represents as the third 
degree in ' the use which Nature subserves to 
man in language.' But while we fully agree 
with most that he advances, we are disappointed 
to find that he merely adduces disconnected facts 
without applying them, so as to become avail- 
able for study, and the effecting of a productive 
and progressive movement. We see the mate- 
rials of a building, but no edifice ; all lies scat- 

D 



34 NATURE-STUDY. 

tered, confused, disconnected, and wanting in 
design offering a presentable object of utility. A 
miscellany is not a compact available treatise, 
and no amount of disjointed facts are available 
for the promotion of study, just as a painting is 
no desirable picture if deficient in perspective, as 
produced by artists of China or Japan, although 
posse c sing much to admire and approve for cos- 
tume and vivid colours; one obvious leading 
feature being absent, the whole dissatisfies and 
becomes distasteful. Emerson sees Nature suf- 
ficiently to apply it in some measure, but with- 
out method or system to guide in that various 
and absorbing study. 

In respect to ability for the just observance of 
Nature, Mr. Ruskin* appositely remarks: — 'Can- 
not we [say the public] see what Nature is with 
our own eyes, and find out for ourselves what 
is like her ?' The degree of ignorance of ex- 
ternal nature in which men may remain, depends 
partly on the number and character of the sub- 
jects with which their minds may be otherwise 
occupied, and partly on a natural want of sensi- 
bility to the power of beauty of form, and the 
other attributes of external objects. 

In 1850, David M. Moir [Delta, of Black- 
wood's Magazine) gave Lectures on Poetical 
Literature [1800-50], in which he avowed his 
belief that scientific progress was rapidly curtail- 
ing the province of poetry ; that in short the 
age was becoming far too matter-of-fact ; but 
yet that while men breathe, there is room for a 
new Sappho or a new Simonides to melt, and 

* Modern Painters, vol. i., 8vo. 1846. 



INTRODUCTION. $$ 

for a new Tyrtseus and a new Pindar to excite 
and inspire. Therefore, he adds, he does not 
despair of poetry ultimately recovering from the 
staggering blows which science has inflicted in 
the shape of steam conveyance — of electro-mag- 
netism — of geological exposition — of political 
economy — of statistics — in fact, by a series of 
dis enchantments* 

Not without hope, he declares his belief that, 
Original genius in due time must from new 
elements frame new combinations ; and these 
may be at least what the kaleidoscope is to the 
rainbow, or an explosion of hydrogen in the 
gasometer to a flash of lightning on the hills. 
But this (he considers) does not alter his position 
— that all facts are prose y until coloured by 
imagination or passion. 

In support of his position, he says, From 
physic we have swept away alchemy, incanta- 
tion, and cure by the royal touch ; from divinity, 
exorcism, and purgatory, and excommunication ; 
and from law, the trial by wager of battle, the 
ordeal by touch, the mysterious confessions of 
witchcraft. In the foamy seas, we can never 
more expect to see Proteus leading out his flocks ; 
nor, in the dimpling stream, another Narcissus 
admiring his own fair face ; nor Diana again 
descending on Latmos to Endymion. We cannot 
hope another Una, ' making a sunshine in the 
shady place ; 5 nor another Macbeth, meeting 
with other witches on the blasted heath ; 
nor another Faust, wandering amid the mys- 
terious sights and sounds of another Mayday 
night. Robin Hoods and Rob Roys are incom- 

D 2 



36 NATURE-STUDY. 

patible with sheriffs and the county police. 
Rocks are stratified by geologists, exactly as satins 
are measured by mercers ; and Echo, no longer 
a vagrant classic nymph, is compelled quietly to 
succumb to the laws of acoustics. 

Thus despondingly, and yet somewhat hu- 
morously, did the lecturer address his audience. 
Like Bruyere, he was evidently prepared to ex- 
claim ' All is said ;' or with Dr. Johnson to 
decide that all the materials of poetry and 
romance are used up, and their charms dissi- 
pated. 

The study of Nature being an Art and not 
a Science, Humboldt has very happily met the 
fears of those timid searchers among Nature's 
abundant stores whom Moir's remarks indicate, 
by observing in the Introduction to his Cosmos : 

It is almost with reluctance that he is about 
to speak of a sentiment which appears to arise 
from narrow-minded [? incorrect] views, or from 
a certain weak and morbid sentimentality. — He 
alludes to the fear entertained by some persons, 
that Nature may by degrees lose a portion of the 
charm and magic of her power, as we learn 
more and more how to unveil her secrets, com- 
prehend the mechanism of the movements of the 
heavenly bodies, and estimate numerically the 
intensity of natural forces. 

In reviewing the opinions mostly expressed by 
approved writers on the subject, we find that 
they principally restrict themselves to urging 
faithfulness in description of the objects pre- 
sented to our senses in external Nature. Some 
go so far as to recommend as a necessary pre- 



INTRODUCTION. 



37 



paration for correct delineation of natural scenery, 
and the habits and appearances of animal and 
vegetable creation generally, that the poet should 
study, as it were, to become an astronomer, zoo- 
logist, botanist, chemist, and in short occupy 
himself with science generally. In support of 
this view the exactness of some poets and the 
errors of others in reference to animals, plants, 
moonlight, &c, are offered as sufficient evidence. 
The first writer who feelingly addressed himself 
to the consideration of this subject, was unques- 
tionably Nature's own first best poet, Words- 
worth. He particularly notices, as we have seen, 
that Dryden's voluminous works do not afford 
one new image derived from Nature, in the 
wide sense of that term ; and the same deficiency, 
he observes, marks the poetry of the long period 
from the time of Milton to Thomson ; com- 
prehending among others the names of Marvel, 
Butler, Walton, Otway, Waller, Moore, Lee, 
Vaughan, Philips, Parnell, Rowe, and Garth. 
But Wordsworth, like all other poets, has left us 
only his own productions by which to judge of 
his own special, and perhaps to himself pecu- 
liar method of Nature-Study. What he states 
in his Preface has reference only to descriptive 
poetry ; all else is left for sensibility to discover 
without a single hint conducting to any approved 
method of his own, in the application of natural 
or educated sensibility, to assist the c range of a 
poet's perceptions.' Yet much he could have 
told us how he himself was c incited to observe 
objects, both as they exist in themselves, and as 
reacted upon by his own mind.' But as he 



38 NATURE-STUDY. 

was not called on, so neither has he thought 
proper to divulge his secret. His method of 
study, whatever it was, lies embalmed in his 
poems, open to many and contradictory opinions, 
calculated rather to confuse than to instruct. 
The commentators of the next century will form 
a much calmer and clearer estimate of the poet 
in this particular than can be expected from 
writers so near to his own time as his critics of 
the present day : some too enthusiastic and 
laudatory ; others too petulant, feeble, and self- 
opinionated. Professor Arnold, looking on Nature 
as a world-wide book, treats of an interpretative 
power in the poet, a power which has nearly 
a corresponding effect on the reader. Professor 
Shairp, however, finds that the poet must possess 
a peculiarly piercing visual, mental, and physical 
organ, before which all the matter of the 
universe becomes as it were transparent like 
crystal, exposing to the enraptured poet the 
' real heart of nature.' On the other hand, Mr. 
Kingsley adopts Behmen and other mystical 
writers as models for the poet's study of Nature ; 
and he finds in Tennyson a lively example of 
this identical mystical character. Nature is re- 
presented to declare herself only to such Vision- 
aries ; so that learning, science, and common 
sense, without a marked ingraining of mysticism, 
render the efficient study of Nature next to an 
impossibility ! 

Emerson in a long Essay on Nature does little 
more than repeat all we have over and over 
again read and heard in praise of the greatness 
and grandeur of Nature, with its many beauties 



INTRODUCTION. ^ 

and excellencies; and provokingly assures 'every 
rational creature ' — that he has this vast uni- 
verse ' for his dowry and estate.' But he evades 
the main object of our search, that is, how to 
obtain its precious gems and metals, and effec- 
tively cultivate such a magnificent magnitude of 
territory. 

Mr. Moir found that physics are deranging 
and occupying the once fertile province of poetry ; 
and that, what with machinery and manu- 
factures, mankind for the future can expect but 
little originality in poetical compositions ; from 
which judgment we are left to infer that a return 
to the dark ages, or at the very least to the less 
brilliant period of our forefathers, offers the only 
feasible means of establishing a poetical reputa- 
tion of any considerable character. 

This sketch, although it far from exhausts the 
adverse criticism on this subject, may yet suffice 
to show the wide want of agreement in the 
opinions of writers on this matter, notwithstanding 
its importance, and its at first appearing to be 
one capable of being very simply elucidated. 

The Literature of this subject is highly sug- 
gestive, so many distinct and diametrically op- 
posed statements are made. Some are all mys- 
tery, others prosaic laudations of Nature, while a 
few affect to be very philosophical. One author 
seizes on the idea of a universal soul, or spirit, or 
light ; some expound its doctrines and others its 
principles; some give us views, others harmo- 
nies, others beauties and sublimities of Nature. 
Large as is the field, labourers have not being 
wanting to realise its stores of wealth after some 



40 NATURE-STUDY. 

manner or other, but never with any successful 
result when instruction is sought. 

Every scholar is aware how thoroughly Na- 
ture permeates language, whether colloquial or 
written, whether in prose or in poetry, however 
humble or impassioned may be its expression. 
The sacred Scriptures abound in illustrations of 
this simple statement ; and we trace it further as 
marking the character of most popular pro- 
verbs. Man is of Nature, natural, and seldom 
loses sight of his origin and connection with the 
great world of material mould. He is of the 
earth, earthy. How shall this living matter 
investigate inert matter, dumb life, vegetable 
existence, together with the animating air, water, 
heat, light, and electricity ? As mind can sit in 
judgment on mind, so may mind with far 
brighter hopes of success examine into this Uni- 
verse of Matter, and therefrom educe a practical 
method of Nature-Study. 



CRITICISM, UNSATISFACTORY. 4 1 



Chapter II. 

Criticism affords no definite rules in reference to the study 
of Nature ; Nature, as distinguished from Art, includes 
the entire Creation, animate and inanimate ; various 
critical opinions examined, especially in reference to 
Wordsworth's philosophy of Nature ; unmeaning lan- 
guage reprobated ; poets best record their own Nature- 
Study ; the practice of Thomson, Young, Pope, Scott, 
Coleridge, and Dr. Southey, with illustrations from the 
latter, and from Wordsworth's Excursion. 

Every scince and every art, the art of Nature- 
Study excepted, takes a definite, a methodical 
form, hence their professors treat the subjects 
relating to them as portions of a great system. 
Astronomy does not consist merely in a know- 
ledge of a few hundred stars, or botany in an 
acquaintance with a certain number of plants. 
But Nature-Study is at present so limited in its 
range, that its stores of facts are isolated and 
appear to have no connection with each other. 
Coleridge in his Biographia Liter aria very judi- 
ciously remarks : — 

It is the prime merit of genius, and its most 
unequivocal mode of manifestation, so to repre- 
sent familiar objects, as to awaken in the minds 
of others a kindred feeling concerning them, and 
that freshness of sensation which is the constant 
accompaniment of mental, no less than of bodily, 
convalescence. Who has not a thousand times 
seen snow fall on water ? Who has not watched 



42 NATURE-STUDY. 

it with a new feeling from the time that he has 
read Burns' comparison of sensual pleasure : — 

To snow that falls upon a river, 

A moment white — then gone for ever ! 

But he draws no inferences from the instance 
thus cited of Burns's eye and feeling for proper 
and forcible applications of occurrences in Nature 
which every season modifies, and which every 
day meet our common observation. In like 
manner that acute observer, Mr. Ruskin, al- 
though writing more for the painter than the 
poet, points out, in an incidental allusion to the 
subject, that, among typical applications of Na- 
ture, we find : — 

Grass — for humility, cheerfulness, and the 
passing away of human life ; 

Flowers — as objects especially loved by poets ; 

Infinity — for redeemed life ; and as expressed 
by curvature and gradation ; and 

Mystery — as never absent in Nature. 
And he adds as an observation of his own, that 
shadow does not exist on clear water ; thus sub- 
stituting appearance for fact ; because although 
such may seem to be the effect, not a leaf could 
float on water so circumstanced without at once 
coming under the influence of the unseen, black, 
but transparent shade. 

Professor Bain, treating of The Senses and the 
Intellect, 1864, adduces examples of comparisons 
employed in literary art for ornament and effect, 
and of figures of speech implying comparison. 
He says : — 

Human actions, feelings, and thoughts, are 
often so concealed in their workings, that they 



FIGURES OF SPEECH. 43 

cannot be represented without the assistance of 
material objects used as comparisons ; hence the 
great abundance of the resemblances struck be- 
tween matter and mind. We speak of a clear 
head, a warm heart, a torrent of passion, a poet's 
fire. The comparisons brought to bear upon the 
complexities of social life are likewise very nume- 
rous ; in fact there are many social phenomena 
that we never conceive otherwise than in some 
matrix of material analogy. If we take, for 
example, the different ideas connected with social 
order and disorder, we find the language almost 
wholly derived from other things : scarcely a 
phrase is literal, all is metaphorical. i The vessel 
of the State weathers the storm,' or is ' in danger 
of wreck ;' anarchy is described as c chaos,' ' con- 
fusion' ; the Government is said to be ' shaken,' 
or ' stable,' or c tottering ;' law is c erected,' c over- 
thrown.' We speak of the c life ' and ' growth ' 
of society ; when we conceive of progress, it is 
generally in a figure ; we call it c movement,' 
' development,' c enlightenment,' and so forth. 

Professor Bain further illustrates his remarks 
by observing : — 

In virtue of this surprising power, Bacon's 
doctrines became clothed in 4 winged words.' 
According to him, science is the c interpretation ' 
of Nature ;* a comparison that transfixes the mind 
with the idea of observing, recording, and ex- 
plaining the facts of the world. Final causes, he 
says, are c vestal virgins ;' they bear no fruit. 
But for this simile, it is doubtful if this notion 
would have stuck in men's minds and been the 

* See Arnold's Remarks, chapter i. page 27, 



44 NATURE-STUDY. 

subject of keen controversy. Professor Bain adds : 
' Although Bacon's imagery sometimes rises to 
poetry, this is not its usual character ; his was 
not "a poetic sense of Nature, but a broad general 
susceptibility, partaking more of the natural his- 
torian than of the poet ; by which all the objects 
coming before his view, or presented to his ima- 
gination, took a deep hold, and by the help of 
his intense attraction of similarity were recalled 
on the slightest similitude. Many great writers 
in English literature have had this strong suscep- 
tibility to the sensible world at large, without a 
special poetic sense; while some have had the 
poetic feeling superadded ; these last are our 
greatest poets, Chaucer, Milton, Shakspeare.' 

No one can dissent from the statements made 
by Coleridge, Mr. Ruskin, or Professor Bain, 
indeed they fairly illustrate a commonly accepted 
mode in which the subject as applying to the 
influences of Nature on our minds and language 
is usually recorded, without its appearing to the 
writers as other than the expression of sufficient 
and satisfactory statements on the subject. After 
centuries of acquaintance with this vast universe, 
with its manifold productions and many living 
creatures, we are talking about it, as reflected in 
our own minds, and more especially as mirrored 
in the mind of the poet, as philosophers would 
have discoursed of old about the stars, or man 
and animals, and cosmography at large. A pro- 
cess so elementary that it would not be endured 
or even attempted in discussing any other art, is 
characteristic of all criticisms touching the study 
of Nature, and the results of that study. Like 



NATURE, CREATION. 45 

circumnavigators of the globe, the critic's pinnace 
inevitably returns to the port from whence it 
started, less fruitful in results than an arctic ex- 
pedition. 

Nature comprehends all forms of terrestrial 
and celestial matter cognizant by our senses, 
whether the same be ponderable or imponder- 
able, animate or inanimate ; all created things, 
as well in their entirety as in their parts, and all 
conceivable circumstances that can possibly affect 
them. Our globe, with all its surroundings of 
atmosphere, clouds, sun, planets, and stars, offers 
to the human mind such apparently unattainable 
heights, unfathomable depths, and limitless 
bounds, that it has been for ages left almost 
wholly to the poet, and even he can only afford 
us occasional glimpses of Nature's profound beau- 
ties, sublimities, and mysteries. But while 
Homer and Sophocles, Shakspeare and Milton, 
Goethe and Wordsworth, have charmed mankind 
with strains of poetry inspired by universal 
Nature itself, another class of genius, aiming at 
no flights of fancy, but sternly dealing with facts, 
has philosophically measured and calculated the 
starry system, this glorious earth, its vast waters, 
all inanimate objects, all living creatures, includ- 
ing man himself, with an exactness of inquiry 
repugnant to the poetical temperament. 

Nature as viewed and meditated on by the 
poet, and Nature as examined and experimented 
upon by the philosopher, presents us, as it were, 
with two worlds, or the same world in one sense 
etherealized, but in the other both realized and 
anatomized : the one productive of results appli- 



46 NATURE-STUDY. 

cable to literature and oratory ; the other to the 
embellishment, comfort, and happiness of social 
life. 

It is remarkable that the idea should ever have 
been entertained that the progress of science 
could be detrimental to the growth of the taste 
for poetical compositions, as though ignorance 
were conducive to the appreciation of poetry. 
Let the poet enlarge his Nature-Study in a de- 
gree proportioned to that which has extended the 
investigations of the philosopher, and poetry 
will unquestionably exhibit subtantial progress, 
though widely different from that of science in 
its course and results. 

Poets have never been wanting in their praise 
of external Nature; but as it would require 
volumes to quote all, we present a few ap- 
propriate examples. Beattie in his Minstrel, 
sings : — 

O Nature, how in every charm supreme ! 
Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! 
O for the voice and fire of seraphim, 
To sing thy glories with devotion due ! 
Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew, 
From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty ; 
And held high converse with the godlike few, 
Who to th' enraptured heart, and ear, and eye, 
Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody. 

Thomson, in The Seasons, feelingly expresses 
his deep sense of the difficulties that surrounded 
his great undertaking : — 

But who can paint, 

Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, 
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 

If fancy then 



Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, 



EXTERNAL NATURE. 



47 



Ah, what shall language do ? ah, where find words 
Tinged with so many colours ; and whose power, 
To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, 
That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 

The rustic muse of Burns finds expression in 
the lines : — 

O Nature ! a' thy shows and forms 

To feeling, pensive hearts ha'e charms ! 

Whether the summer kindly warms, 

Wi' life and light, 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 

The lang, dark night. 

The muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
Till by himsel' he learn'd to wander, 
Adown some trotting" burn's meander, 

And no think lang ; 
Or sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder 

A heart-felt song. 

Wordsworth solemnly and plaintively declares 
that he has " felt "— 

A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things. 

And Lord Byron in Childe Harold exclaims: — 

Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
Though always changing, in her aspect mild ; 

Oh ! she is fairest in her features wild, 
Where nothing polish'd dares pollute her path. 

But while such are the poetical expressions of 
gifted bards in reference to Nature's power and 
happy influences, it always happens that ordinary, 

* Wordsworth in The Excursion has " trotting brooks." 



48 NATURE-STUDY. 

uncultivated minds are feebly affected by 
contact with natural objects, scenery, and phe- 
nomena. The impressions received by them 
are exceedingly evanescent, showing that a cer- 
tain degree of cultivation and refinement is re- 
quisite to direct and improve the taste of the 
generality of mankind, and to enable them to 
appreciate the beauties of Nature. Man, from 
his position in the system of creation, might be 
expected to possess intuitively such a strong im- 
pulse towards the study of Nature, as to impel 
him naturally to seek information on all matters 
presented to his senses. Yet we find that such is 
not the case. Neither rocks nor deserts, not 
islands or ocean, not barren fields or cultivated 
plantations, will of themselves convey instruction 
to ordinary minds. They are but as the ruins of 
Rome, the hieroglyphically inscribed monuments 
of Egypt, or the primeval forests of America. 
When once mind resolves to act on dead matter, 
then indeed will the external world react on in- 
telligent man in a manner to convey an impres- 
sion of absolute vitality. 

The present advanced state of knowledge has 
not sufficed to dispel the cloud of misconceptions 
that has been long accumulating on the subject 
of external Nature ; and many who think they 
see plainly, and clearly comprehend all that 
Nature spreads before them in common with the 
artist and the poet, are yet unblessed with insight 
into the abounding beauties of the natural world. 
To appreciate Nature, they must resort to their 
accustomed mirrors, and see first in pictures or in 
poems those beauties to which they were pre- 



METAPHOR. 49 

viously blind. Even then acuteness of perception 
will be wanting, and they will miss the appro- 
priate mental enjoyment. To be placed in the very 
midst of natural beauty, yet not seeing it, is like 
not hearing music, although attentively listening 
to every sound. What the mind does not fully 
comprehend is lost to the sense that should be 
affected, whether it be the sight, or the hearing, 
or the taste.* 

Study implies use, and the study of Nature 
leads to an infusion into the language of the 
poet and the orator of innumerable graces and 
ornaments derivable from that unfailing source. 
Of these graces not the least is Metaphor. Dr. 
Whately, in his Elements of Rhetoric, 1846, 
treating of novelty in metaphor, remarks : — 

There is very little, comparatively, of energy 
produced by a metaphor or simile that is in 
common use, and already familiar to the hearer. 
Indeed what were originally the boldest meta- 
phors, are become, by long use, virtually, proper 
terms ; — as in the use of the words source, 
reflection, &c, in their transferred senses ; and 
frequently are even nearly obsolete in the literal 
sense, as in the words ardour, acuteness, ruminate, 
edification, &c. If, again, a metaphor or simile 
that is not so hackneyed as to be considered 
common property, be taken from any known 
author, it strikes every one as no less a plagiarism 
than if an entire argument or description had 

* The author is acquainted with a singular instance of 
of a hale, hearty, middle-aged man who has never had the 
sense of smell, so that all odours whether pleasant or 
offensive seem alike to him. 

E 



5° 



NATURE-STUDY. 



been thus transferred. And hence it is that, as 
Aristotle, remarks, the skilful employment of 
these, more than of any other, ornaments of 
language, may be regarded as a c mark of genius.' 
Not that he means to say, as some interpreters 
suppose, that this power is entirely a gift of 
Nature, and in no degree to be learnt ; on the 
contrary, he expressly affirms that the 'perception 
of resemblances,' on which it depends, is the 
fruit of c Philosophy ' ; but he means that any 
metaphor which is striking from being not in 
common use, is a kind of property of him who 
has invented it, and cannot fairly be transferred 
from his composition to another's. 

These critical observations point to bold meta- 
phors long in use, that have become effete ; they 
remind us that in a striking metaphor we recog- 
nise its author and accord to him the honour of 
its invention ; and that the employment of these 
and similar ornaments of language are no small 
c mark of genius.' Even Aristotle admits the 
possibility of there being something to be learnt 
in this matter to assist the less gifted or inspired 
among orators and poets. Who will guide us in our 
search for this invaluable treasure of knowledge ? 
It is agonizing to hear so much of treasures sunk, 
as it might appear, in an oceanic abyss. The 
poet Moore feigns to have met on the coast of 
the Red Sea a venerable man, yclept Philosophy, 
of whom he says : — 

He told 



Of the dark veil, which many an age hath hung 

O'er Nature's form, till by the touch of time 

The mystic shroud grew thin and luminous, 

And half the goddess beam'd in glimpses through it! 



ANCIENT POETRY. 5 I 

Such was his Vision of Philosophy, which it 
would be well for mankind should it ever be 
realized. At present, and for all past time, this 
' goddess ' of the poet's has remained veiled in 
all but Cimmerian darkness. 

Poetry, although taking precedence of Philoso- 
phy, has not preserved to us any record of man's 
earlier conceptions of Nature at large ; but from 
a remote antiquity, man has ever loved to dwell 
on the history, life, and mind of human nature 
without distinction as to country, sex, age, or 
position in society. Whatever we can gather 
relative to early feelings in respect to external 
nature is of the very highest interest. 

Humboldt, an accomplished scholar and in- 
defatigable, observant traveller, remarks : — 

A profound feeling of Nature pervades the 
most ancient poetry of the Hebrews and Indians ; 
and exists among nations of very different de- 
scent. 

He also observes incidentally that : No descrip- 
tion has been transmitted to us from antiquity 
of the eternal snow of the Alps, reddened by 
the evening glow or the morning dawn ; of the 
beauty of the blue ice of the glaciers ; or of the 
sublimity of Swiss natural scenery, for although 
men of talent were continually passing through 
Helvetia on their road to Gaul, yet they never 
appear to have paid any attention to the romantic 
scenery through which they travelled. 

Schiller has observed that the Greek poet is 
certainly, in the highest degree, correct, faithful, 
and circumstantial in his descriptions of Nature, 
but his heart has no more share in his words 

E 2 



$2 N ATURE-STUD Y. 

than if he were treating of a garment, a shield, 
or a suit of armour. Nature seems to interest 
his understanding more than his moral percep- 
tions ; he does not cling to her charms with the 
fervour and the plaintive passion of the poet of 
modern times. 

Whether we read the Views of Nature or the 
Cosmos of Humboldt, we continually find inter- 
spersed throughout their pages such observations 
on Nature as could alone come from an enthu- 
siastic and yet close and classical as well as 
scientific observer of ocean, forests, savannahs, 
mountain solitudes, and boundless steppes and 
prairies, together with their luxurious natural 
productions, supplying abundant matters for 
studious investigation. In the Introductory por- 
tion of his latter work, he says : — 

The most important result of a rational in- 
quiry into Nature is to establish the unity and 
harmony of its stupendous mass of force and 
matter, to determine with impartial justice what 
is due to the discoveries of the past and to those 
of the present, and to analyse the individual 
parts of natural phenomena without succumbing 
beneath the weight of the whole. Thus and 
thus alone, he urges, is it permitted to man, 
while mindful of the high destiny of his race, 
to comprehend Nature, and submit the results of 
observation to the tests of reason and intellect. 
With a just appreciation of scientific inquiry he 
adds that the mere accumulation of unconnected 
observations of details, devoid of generalization 
of ideas, may doubtlessly have tended to create 
and foster the deeply-rooted prejudice, that the 



STUDY OF NATURE. 53 

study of the exact sciences must necessarily chill 
the feelings, and diminish the nobler enjoyments, 
attendant upon a contemplation of Nature. Those 
who still cherish such erroneous views in the 
present age, and amid the progress of public 
opinion, and the advancement of all branches of 
knowledge, fail (as he conceives) in duly appre- 
ciating the value of every enlargement of the 
sphere of intellect, and the importance of the 
detail of isolated facts in leading us to general 
results. 

Turn where we will, whether to the rhe- 
torician, the classical scholar, or the accomplished 
man of letters and travel, we are left to our own 
course, either to guess at Nature, or to study it 
scientifically. The one, a study without grammar, 
guide, or general discipline, is the one wished-for 
study for the acquirement of new figures, de- 
scriptions, and uses of the wide world of Nature 
in poetry and eloquence. 

Campbell, as a poet and successful votary of 
Nature, offers some remarks in his Essay and 
general criticisms which are highly worthy of 
notice here. In speaking of Pope he is led to 
observe : — 

Nature is the poet's goddess ; not her mere 
inanimate face, or the simple landscape painting 
of trees, clouds, precipices, and flowers is to be 
understood. — Nature, in the wide and proper 
sense of the word, means life in all its circum- 
stances — nature moral as well as external. — Pope, 
though not absolutely picturesque, is by no means 
deficient as a painter of interesting external objects. 
— Nor is he without observations of animal 



54 NATURE-STUDY. 

nature, in which every epithet is a decisive 
touch. 

He also notices Wordsworth's having stated in 
respect to Dryden : — That his cannot be the lan- 
guage of imagination must have necessarily 
followed from this — that there is not a single 
image from Nature in the whole body- of his 
works. 

It will be observed that in most of the evidence 
brought forward there is a prevailing criticism 
on the style of descriptive poetry, as to its 
barrenness, fruitfulness, richness, accuracy, and 
striking observances of all the eye can perceive 
in Nature ; a style of composition very appo- 
sitely designated word-painting. All beyond is 
a terra incognita, full of mysteries, and is 
Cerebus-guarded to all but a small knot of 
inspired geniuses. 

All writers on philology trace the enlargement, 
power, and eloquence of language to an infusion 
into speech of the very terms employed to dis- 
tinguish very opposite living or even dead matter. 
This applies also to proverbial sayings, the con- 
centrated wisdom of our forefathers ; and to 
fables whether ancient or modern. In poetry 
philologists trace to our common love of 
Nature innumerable figures of speech, and 
highest of all word-pictures, as in descriptive 
verse. 

Professor Max Miiller has enlightened us a 
little on Nature itself, in his Lectures on the 
Science of Language, observing : — 

It is a well-known fact, which recent re- 
searches have not shaken, that Nature is incap- 



ELEMENTARY VIEWS. 55 

able of progress or improvement. The flower 
which the botanist observes to-day was as perfect 
from the beginning. Animals, which are en- 
dowed with what is called an artistic instinct, 
have never brought that instinct to a higher 
degree of perfection. The hexagonal cells of 
the bee are not more regular in the 19th century 
than at any earlier period, and the gift of song 
has never, as far as we know, been brought to 
a higher perfection by our nightingale than by 
the Philomele of the Greeks. c Natural history,' 
to quote Dr. Whewell's * words, when sys- 
tematically treated, excludes all that is historical, 
for it classes objects by their permanent and 
universal properties, and has nothing to do with 
the narration of particular or casual facts. 

How true all this is, and yet how exceedingly 
elementary. What strides we have made in 
Nature-Study to be able to speak with certainty 
respecting at least one feature in Nature ! The 
prevalent impressions on the minds of most men 
concerning Nature are of the most vague and 
unsettled character; showing that they have 
never given to the subject their serious attention, 
as if they considered it too magnificent and 
multiform for compression into an available 
system. 

To the poet, and to him alone, must we look 
to be informed of what are the manifold in- 
fluences of animate and inanimate nature on his 
mental constitution ; and from his experience as 
conveyed through his literary practice we may 
hope to arrange a critical code of rules consti- 
* See his History of Inductive Sciences. 



$6 NATURE-STUDY. 

tuting an absolute system based on the soundest 
principles. 

The poet's world of Nature first demands our 
notice, to ascertain how far it differs from ordi- 
narily accepted opinions regarding Nature, a 
term of large and yet often differing acceptation 
as usually treated. In his Science of Language, 
Professor Max Mliller, speaking of Nature, 
says : — 

c We use the word readily and constantly, but 
when we try to think of Nature as a being, or 
as an aggregate of beings, or as a power, or as 
an aggregate of powers, our mind soon drops : 
there is nothing to lay hold of, nothing that 
exists or resists.' So little can modern intelligence 
avail in explaining the matter that he quotes 
Buffon and Cuvier to show that even those 
great naturalists, differing in their views, offered 
nothing more satisfactory than the fables of 
Gcea, the mother of Uranos, the wife of Uranos. 

Boyle, in a long Essay on Nature, following 
in the footsteps of Aristotle, treated of it as : i — 
to mean God ; 2 — either essence, or quiddity ; 
3 — original temperament or constitution of bodies; 
4 — the moving of a body of its own accord ; 
5 — the established or settled course of things ; 
6 — essential properties or qualities, as fabric of 
the world, system of the universe, cosmical 
mechanism, &c. ; 7 — the world or universe ; and 
so forth. 

Such real or attempted refinements may have 
had their influence in misdirecting and in 
retarding many a poet's progress in becoming 
better acquainted with Nature than might fall 



THE POETS NATURE, 57 

to the lot of his unaided judgment. The poet's 
Nature is at once the most simple and yet the 
most extensive field of observation imaginable. 
With him (to repeat the definition employed in 
Chapter I.) All is Nature that is not Art ; that 
is, to the exclusion of all Art arising from the 
exercise of intellect in man ; or even that 
arising from instinct in any living creatures 
whatever, as the nests of birds, the waxen 
cells of bees, the hills of ants, the cocoons of 
silk-worms, and like productions of skill and 
labour of animated creation. 

So far we have arrived at conclusions deter- 
mining what we have to study in Nature for 
the purposes of poetry and eloquence ; and also 
of the extent and magnitude of the subject. At 
present we are treating the matter as we find it, 
in criticism rather than in poetry, such a ground- 
work being best suited to establish the soundness 
of the system arising out of the poet's own 
practice, on which we shall presently enter. 

The great charm of poetry of a high order is 
its peculiar power of presenting in a novel and 
pleasing form phases of Nature previously unob- 
served and comparatively unseen. Whether in 
didactic, descriptive, or dramatic poetry, such 
applications from Nature to ethics, or song, or 
for stage effect, become at once popular and even 
proverbial. The superior sensibility of one poet 
as compared with another, to be strikingly im- 
pressed by natural objects, and his ability to 
impress the minds of his readers with ideas of the 
grandeur or beauty of Nature, is usually attri- 
buted to inspiration, which after all, when 



58 NATURE-STUDY. 

philosophically considered, either has no meaning, 
or is only another mode of expressing a sense of 
superiority in the genius or talent of the suc- 
cessful poet : for the mental, like the physical, 
may be of gigantic proportions. But by attri- 
buting every excellence in poetical compositions 
to inspiration, we only substitute one difficulty 
for another, by our tacit belief discourage further 
inquiry, and leave unexplained the mode in which 
we may study Nature so as to become acquainted 
with its passing and commonly unnoted features, 
as well as with those which are more tangible 
and permanent. 

As a figure of speech, the term inspiration 
concisely expresses our estimation of Homer, 
Virgil, Shakspeare, or Milton ; but for our 
present purpose it is inapplicable, because it 
excuses the study which we advocate : one which 
must go into details, analysing and selecting from 
Nature all that taste and judgment can indicate 
for our choice. However inspired the artist 
may have appeared to an observer, while engaged 
pencil in hand on a great work, he has undoubt- 
edly arrived at expertness and exactness through 
sedulous attention to all the requisite preparatory 
studies. And poets who would study Nature 
like Raphaels and Titians, must, like them, 
arrive at greatness through the tedium of labo- 
rious study. 

The art that enables man to see Nature 
thoroughly in all its external forms and varying 
aspects, and even rise still higher in the scale of 
his observations, although it may never produce 
a poet, irrespective of the poetic temperament, 



METHOD. 59 

yet it will assuredly furnish most efficient aid to 
the true poet. The feeling to apply, and the 
manner of applying natural objects and associa- 
tions must be so far inherent as to deserve the 
name of inspiration ; but the faculty of utilizing 
the more minute characteristics of Nature can 
only be nurtured by means of well-directed 
methodical study. 

Poets have performed so much, and composed 
so well, without any especial system in their 
study of external Nature, that rules might appear 
but as trammels to any precocious genius who 
can truly say with Gray : 

The meanest floweret of the vale, 
The simplest note that swells the gale, 
The common sun, the air, the skies, 
To him are opening paradise. 

What we contend for is, that unmethodical 
observations of Nature, although they may be 
exceedingly beautiful in themselves, must neces- 
sarily be of rare occurrence ; and their multipli- 
cation is beyond the scope of the ordinary poet. 
The poet's range through the vast regions of 
Nature is strangely unproductive, chiefly from 
ignorance of some efficient means of grasping a 
subject of such magnitude. 

Let us now proceed to a few observations on 
the study, as it has been hitherto pursued, 
to gather from the lessons of experience some 
useful opinions, and any proofs of elementary 
practice that may guide us in our inquiry. 

The infancy of all Arts and Sciences is marked 
by crudeness and simplicity, and often by a 
certain amount of debasement. Music, painting, 



60 NATURE-STUDY. 

architecture, were as rude in their commencement 
as were astronomy, natural history, and che- 
mistry. Poetry has passed through a similar 
phase, and we find it at the present day a most 
polished Art, acknowledging the fewest possible 
rules. It sings the praises of a host of heathen 
deities, it is great in fable, in song, in sentiment 
and patriotism. It is the great vehicle of dra- 
matic composition, depicting to the life man and 
manners. Modern poets have endeavoured to 
employ it as a vehicle for artistic presentation to 
the mind's eye of pictorial scenery, and the cha- 
racteristics of animated Nature. What had pre- 
viously been regarded as the lesser ornamentations 
en pediments and pedestals of temples and 
monuments are now reproduced as larger works 
of art. Where poets of old merely catalogued 
objects in Nature, the modern poets describe and 
etherialize, and cast a halo of glory around both 
animate and inanimate creation. 

A critique appeared in the Edinburgh Re- 
view^ 1849, on poetical reality or truth to 
Nature, urging on the poet attention to actual 
nature, as something more than merely material, 
remarking, however, that it is not to the com- 
mon eye that Nature reveals her lore ; although 
she offers it to all, yet it is only a c gift of genuine 
insight ' which can penetrate into her meanings. 
Such is the verbiage in which too many critics 
still indulge. Why address to all, an essay that 
can apply only to a nondescript race having 
1 a gift of genuine insight ' ? Then Nature has 
c meanings,' and these can be c penetrated,' pro- 
vided the poet possess a certain gift of ' insight,' 



CRITICAL OPINIONS. 6 1 

the secret of which can only, perhaps, be masoni- 
cally communicated. 

The true poet, (remarks Bowles) should have 
an eye attentive and familiar with every change 
of season, every variation of light and shade of 
Nature, every rock, every tree, and every leaf in 
her secret places. He who has not an eye to 
observe these, and who cannot with a glance 
distinguish every hue in her variety, must be so 
far deficient in one of the essential qualities of a 
poet. This is what Campbell calls a ' botanizing 
perspicacity,' widely different from anything to 
be found in the poetry of Sophocles. 

In a very different tone Samuel Taylor Cole- 
ridge, as we find recorded in his Literary 
Remains, concludes somewhat differently. We 
must imitate Nature ! (he exclaims, and then 
proceeds) Yes, but what is Nature, — all and 
everything? No, the beautiful in Nature. 
And what then is beautiful ? What is beauty ? 
It is in the abstract, the unity of the manifold, the 
coalescence of the diverse ; in the concrete, it is the 
union of the shapely [for mo sum) with the vital. 

Professor Wilson,* in defending Burns against 
the charge of deficiency in observance of Nature, 
remarks: — The truth is that he would have 
utterly despised most of what is now dignified 
with the name of poetry, where harmlessly 
enough — 

Pure description takes the place of sense : 

but far worse, where the agonizing artist 
intensifies himself into genuine convulsions. 

* The Land of Burns. By Professor Wilson, 2 vols. _fto. 
Glasgow : 1840. 



62 NATURE-STUDY. 

Moir, in his Lectures on our Poetical Lite- 
rature, says regarding a set of new poetical 
aspirants [1850] : 

Who will not look upon Nature with their 
own unassisted eyes, but are constantly inter- 
posing some favourite medium — probably a dis- 
torting medium. They are either making mon- 
strous growths out of the green grass on the lap of 
mother earth, or making new stars from the ne- 
bulous fire-mist in the blue abyss of space above 
their heads— their ' series of melting views ' is 
christened transcendental philosophy. The latter- 
day poets (as he calls them) seem principally to 
have a desire to exhibit the influence of physical 
nature on the operations of the fancy and in- 
tellect ; and we have, in consequence, simply 
their gropings amid the arcana of minds, 
in search of those hidden links of mystery which 
connect the seen to the unseen. But this, as the 
general subjective material, can scarcely be termed 
poetry. 

From these, and from critical remarks generally 
on the subject, as offering matter for the poet's 
special study, we find a continual disagreement 
as to what is properly to be considered Nature, 
what its relation to Art, in what respect and to 
what extent it is available to the poet, with an 
intimation of mysteries to be penetrated in some 
inscrutible way. 

The criticism of De Ouincey on Wordsworth's 
poetry, occurring in the fifth volume of his 
works, 1862-63, is particularly interesting, 
whether considered in reference to the subject, 
or its author's mode of treatment. In so far as 



DE QUINCEY's VIEWS. 63 

his remarks refer to the Study of Nature, it is 
quite clear that De Quincey purposes doing full 
justice to the poet, omitting nothing that can 
tell in his favour, and particularly in reference to 
his habit of acute observation of Nature, and for 
his bringing c many a truth into life both for 
the eye and for the understanding, which 
previously had slumbered indistinctly for all 
men.' 

First, as affecting the eye, he directs attention 
to Wordsworth's saying of a cataract seen a mile 
off, that it was ' frozen by distance.' 

Second, of twilight, he marks the poet's no- 
ticing its abstracting power, as c daily executed 
WJNLature through her handmaid Twilight.' 

of his cloud scenery, which, if not 
the firb. to notice, he at least considers he has 
been the most circumstantial in his descrip- 
tions. 

Fourth, that 'he looked at natural objects 
with the eye that neither will be dazzled from 
without nor cheated by preconceptions from 
within.' And 'scarcely has there been a 
poet with what could be called an eye, or 
an eye extensively learned, before Words- 
worth.' 

Fifth, of his sky scenery, of which De Quin- 
cey notes three special examples. 

Sixth, he says, ' as another of those natural 
appearances which must have haunted men's 
eyes since the Flood, but yet had never forced 
itself into conscious notice until arrested by 
Wordsworth, I may notice an effect of iteration 
daily exhibited in the habits of cattle : — 



64 NATURE-STUDY. 

The cattle are grazing, 
Their heads never raising, 
There are forty feeding like one. 

Now, merely as a fact \ and if it were nothing 
more, this characteristic appearance in the habits 
of cows, when all repeat the action of each, 
ought not (he considers) to have been overlooked 
by those who profess themselves engaged in 
holding up a mirror to Nature. 

De Quincey, in concluding his essay, remarks : 
' A volume might be rilled with such glimpses 
of novelty as Wordsworth has first laid bare, 
even with apprehension of the senses' 

Now these observations serve to lay before us 
the critic's own estimation of Nature-Study, his 
grounds for praising particular descriptions, and 
the features of the poet's studies that appear to 
him most prominent, although c a volume ' 
remains unwritten, to set forth similar ' glimpses 
of novelty.' The poetical student would be 
little profited through any direction to be derived 
from such teaching as this criticism might be 
expected to suggest. If followed, the poet must 
look about for ' novelties ' in streams, or light, 
or shade, or clouds, or animated nature; in 
short, he is left as much as ever to trust to his 
individual taste and judgment, improved by 
education and experience. 

In judging of the excellence of an entire work 
in art (and the judicious use of Nature in poetry 
is an Art), it is obviously not enough to pick 
out a few morsels of such novelties as Words- 
worth's critics present us with in proof of his 
ability and success in the poetical study of 



MOIR; COLERIDGE. 65 

Nature. A painter is no more to be worthily 
distinguished for odd forms of trees and quad- 
rupeds, or patches of colouring, than is a poet 
for his being the first to make a few observations 
in natural history. These are matters for the crowd 
to admire, not distinguished graces for the art- 
critic to extol as evidences of distinguished merit. 
In the present instance, they are among the 
products of a life-long study of Nature ; and it is 
from the character of his entire poems, and not 
from such isolated passages, that we can form 
any just opinion of his power to present worthy 
examples of Nature's happiest teachings. 

Moir * remarks that Wordsworth philo- 
sophises on the aspects of Nature, rather than 
describes them ; Southey gives the landscape it- 
self with the eye and art of a painter ; Professor 
Wilson* s still life seems like the conjuration of a 
dream — soft, silent, beautiful : — 

Towering o'er these beauteous woods. 
Gigantic rocks were ever dimly seen, 
Breaking with solemn grey the tremulous green, 
And frowning far in castellated pride : 
While hastening to the ocean, hoary floods 
Sent up a thin and radiant mist between, 
Softening the beauty that it could not hide. 

The resolute determination and the self-devo- 
tion of Wordsworth (he considers) were morally 
grand in themselves, and led to grand results — 
the complete restoration of our poetical literature 
to truth and nature. Coleridge, in his Biogra- 
phia Literaria, claimed for Wordsworth, the 
perfect truth of Nature in his images and de- 

* See his Lectures on the Poetical Literature of the past 
half -century , [1800-50], i2mo. 1856. 



66 NATURE-STUDY. 

scriptions, as taken immediately from Nature, and 
proving a long and genial intimacy with the 
very spirit which gives a physiognomic expression 
to all the works of Nature. To employ his own 
words, which are at once an instance and an 
illustration, he does, indeed, to all thoughts and 
to all objects, 

add the gleam, 
The light that never was on sea or land, 
The consecration and the poet's dream. 

Wordsworth's similes seldom refer to the 
beings or things of the chronicled past; he 
draws them from Nature, animate or inanimate, 
and they are generally the results of personal 
observation : — 

From the bare trees, the mountains bare, 
And grass in the green field. 

The region amid which Wordsworth's life was 
passed (adds Moir) seemed to have impressed his 
mind with an almost superstitious dread of the 
power of matter; it weighed upon him, 'an 
importunate and heavy load,' and he looked 
with a reverential fear on the forms of Nature — 
the rugged precipice, the gloomy cavern, the 
green pastoral hill, the ripply lake, the still, dark 
tarn, nay, even on the moss-covered boulder- 
stones, which are older in their associations than 
the dawn of art, and which, mayhap, have lain 
on the same spot, untouched and unremarked, 
since the commencement of time. His poems 
are made up of analyses of his own thoughts, 
and a prevading love of Nature. In him we 
have more of the internal power of poetry, with 
less of the external show, than in any other 



WORDSWORTH. 67 

writer, save perhaps Dante. He never groups for 
effect : his subjects are the simple, the single, and 
often the apparently barren, till they are clothed 
with the drapery of his reflective imagination. 
He despotically exalts the humble, and gives 
importance to the insignificant. The Prelude 
will be remembered for the beauty and exquisite 
diction of some of the descriptive passages. 
These are comparable to anything within the 
compass of English blank-verse composition ; 
and are fresh interpretations of Nature, passing 
directly from the intellect and imagination of 
the poet into the reader's memory, where they 
remain imprinted and imperishable. 

Among Wordsworth's most able critics occur 
the names of Jeffrey, Gifford, Southey, Lock- 
hart, Hazlitt, Landor, De Quincey, S. T. Cole- 
ridge, with numerous other writers; but all alike 
disappoint us when we seek to obtain from them 
any insight into the Wordsworth ian philosophy. 
Each from his own point of observation finds, 
as he conceives, a key to influences of Nature 
on the poet's mind, with their results as exempli- 
fied in his poetry. Coleridge claims for Words- 
worth an intimacy with ' the very spirit which 
gives a physiognomic expression to all the works 
of Nature.' But is there any such c spirit' in 
stocks and stones, and other inanimate objects in 
Nature? We can comprehend a man under- 
standing his own mind, and conceiving its 
spirituality to any degree of power and refine- 
ment ; but c the very spirit ' of the globe he 
inhabits is too problematical for human intelli- 
gence to grasp; and it may be doubted whether the 

f 2 



68 .NATURE- STUDY. 

critic himself could have explained what he meant 
by c the very spirit' (in Nature) which gives a phy- 
siognomic expression to the Alps, Derwentwater, 
the small Celandine, or any other natural object. 

Moir finds that the poet's mind was impressed 
c with an almost superstitious dread of the col- 
lective power of matter.' And he alludes 
to The Prelude as containing descriptions 
which c are fresh interpretations of Nature.' 
Here again we have ' interpretations ' used 
perhaps in the sense intended by Lord Bacon, 
but as here applied really explaining nothing. 
If Nature is a veritable book, then like 
other books it may at some date or other be 
partially interpreted ; but for the purposes 
intended, the proposed explanation goes for 
nothing. The employment of such language 
may be very suggestive to many minds, and to 
some may be all the more gratifying from its 
mysteriousness, leaving full play to the imagina- 
tion ; but to write thus is adopting a licence 
scarcely allowable in prose composition. 

Our reason for dwelling at such length on the 
works of one poet is that, few poetical writers 
during the last half-century have given occasion 
to so much critical discussion. And yet to the 
present time no critic has offered any suggestions 
that develope a course of Nature-Study, either as 
traceable to the works of poets generally, or even 
to Wordsworth, although engaged in representing 
him as imbued with its c spirit,' as being its 
' interpreter,' as viewing it c almost with awe and 
superstition,' and feeling it as c a power,' ' a pre- 
sence,' and affecting him like one c possessed.' 



UNRELIABLE CRITICISM. 69 

There has been an affectation to speak of him as 
all soul, and all eye, and tender- feeling for 
Nature ; but no one has thrown aside the lauda- 
tory style to address to us a few words of plain 
common sense. Whoever has read ancient 
works of philosophy and of science will see 
reflected therein the very kind of laudatory ex- 
pression against which we are desirous to warn 
writers and readers on the subject of Nature. 

The study of Nature, with special reference to 
the purposes of poetry and eloquence, is an Art 
which may be said to accept aid from every 
source of knowledge ; to adopt and to absorb all 
it receives, yielding in return the many magic 
products of the tuneful muse. At the same time 
the Poet's Study of Nature is, as we have before 
observed, one of the widest possible range, and 
in some form or other can never have wholly 
escaped his attention ; and however imperfect 
the impressions of poets who lived when the art 
was in its infancy, still as time rolled on, and 
the art became better understood, the advancing 
ages accumulated large treasures of the poet's 
gifted delineations of human and of external 
Nature ; and it is from literary stores thus 
amassed from age to age that man may best 
acquire a system of Nature-Study. 

The means and opportunities for pursuing 
and enlarging our Study of Nature have been 
considerably augmented even within the last 
century. Humboldt, losing no opportunity of 
endeavouring to imbue his readers with a love of 
Nature, impresses on their attention every form 
of advantage intellectually and physically. He 



7© NATURE-STUDY. 

especially notices in his Cosmos that, in reflecting 
upon the different degrees of enjoyment presented 
to us in the contemplation of Nature, we. find 
that the first place must be assigned to a sensa- 
tion, which is wholly independent of an intimate 
acquaintance with the physical phenomena pre- 
sented to our view, or of the peculiar character 
of the region surrounding us. In the uniform 
plain bounded only by a distant horizon, where 
the lowly heather, the cistus, or waving grasses, 
deck the soil ; — on the ocean shore, where the 
waves, softly rippling over the beach, leave a 
track, green with the weeds of the sea ; — every- 
where, the mind is penetrated by the same sense 
of the grandeur and vast expanse of Nature, 
revealing to the soul, by a mysterious inspiration, 
the existence of laws that regulate the forces of 
the universe. In his Cosmos, and in his Views 
of Nature, Humboldt has done more than any 
writer to familiarise us with the striking scenes 
and phenomena of Nature in tropical regions, 
pleasingly, truthfully, and scientifically described, 
yet with sufficient generalization to be acceptable 
to all who seek trustworthy information on im- 
portant facts, remote from their own experience. 
It would be both gratifying and instructive to 
possess reliable evidence of the practice of poets 
in their first rough draughts and essays — collect- 
ing, amplifying, arranging, and polishing such 
ideas as were strictly due to their personal im- 
pressions of Nature. One lesson we should most 
likely learn would be the fact of their loftiest 
and most pleasing imaginings being first presented 
to them in a very prosaic form. It has already 



POETS STUDIES. 7 1 

been noticed that the author of The Seasons was 
accustomed to rural wanderings both by night 
and day. We can well conceive that many of 
Pope's best lines touching Nature were committed 
to paper among very different materials of 
thought, when the poet called for his midnight 
taper. Young's poems may equally have resulted 
from a habit of noting vagrant thoughts, and 
thence may have arisen his : — 

Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep ! 

Or the lines : — 

The spider's most attenuated thread 
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze. 

Or those oft misquoted ones : — 

To know the world, not love her, is thy point : 
She gives but little, nor that little long. 

Sir Walter Scott would note down the flowrets 
of mountain and vale to verify his scenery, 
and he mostly went fresh from the fields and 
the wood-lands direct to the composing of his 
fascinating prose romances and pleasant min- 
strelsy. 

Studious poets have no doubt frequently noted 

for future adoption some striking scene while yet 

under their observation, as we find by his Omniana 

was a custom with S. T. Coleridge, where he 

records : — 

December Morning. The giant shadows sleeping amid 
the wan yellow light of the December morning, looked like 
wrecks and scattered ruins of the long, long night. 

That Dr. Southey was minutely observant of 
external Nature under various aspects is con- 
spicuous from the frequent notes interspersed 



J2 NATURE-STUDY. 

throughout his Common-place Book, edited by 
Dr. J. W. Warter, 1850-51, an example so rare 
and interesting, that we shall present his notes, 
omitting only a few that he had adopted in his 
poems, or which did not appear sufficiently 
striking. There will necessarily always be unre- 
corded associations in every diarist's notes, without 
which the spirit of a first sketch loses much of 
its interest to a stranger ; at the same time, curt 
as they are, they afford unequivocal evidence of 
the kind of materials in natural scenery and 
objects that the refined taste of the poet in this 
instance conceived capable of poetical appropria- 
tion. Perhaps these notes are like the studies of 
all poets in the same field of observation, random 
records of whatever strikes them as beautiful, 
grand, or novel in Nature, while under the influ- 
ence of first direct impressions, and which such 
memoranda were capable of recalling, associated 
with much of the pleasure originally expe- 
rienced. 

In volume 4, commencing at page 200, there 
are among others the following Images, which 
we number consecutively to assist in making 
any future references. 

1. Green of the copse-covered hill, broken 

like the waters of a still lake. 

2. Evening. A flight of small birds, only 

visible by the glitter of their wings. 

3. In the evening the harshest sounds are har- 

monized by distance. The very bark of a 
far-off dog is musical. 

4. August 25. It is the plane that hangs down 

its globular seeds. 



southey's diary. 



5. The swan in swimming arches back his serpent 

neck, and reclines his head between his 
wings. His wings are a little onened, as 
sail-like to catch the wind ; his breast pro- 
truded like a prow. This bird is beautiful 
from its colour and habits ; for it is clumsy 
in shape, and of most foul physiognomy ; 
there is such a snakishness in its eye and 
head, as well as neck. 

6. The leaves of the holly are prickly only when 

they are within reach of cattle ; higher up 
they preserve their waviness. [And so on.] 

7. Beautiful appearance of the ash when the 

moon shines through it, particularly its 
edge. 

8. The moon seems to roll through the rifted 

clouds. 

9. Oct. 2. The ivy now begins to bloom, the 

flower appears globular. [And so on.] 

10. Morning. Mist-shower from the elms and 

thick- leaved trees. 

1 1 . Whiteness of the rocks occasioned by the 

lichens. 

12. The grass grey with dew. 

13. Oct. 10. Rich appearance of the fern in 

the wood. 

14. The acorns brown ripe, or ripening yellow. 

15. Of the various trees, I observe only the ash 

uniform in its fading colour, pale yellowing 
green. Its leaves rise very beautifully, 
light as a lady's plumes. 

16. A path so little frequented, that the leaves 

lay on it untrodden, light as they had 
fallen. 



74 NATURE-STUDY. 

17. The horse-chesnut rich in Autumn. 

18. In the forest of Dean, I saw no trees more 

richly varied than the beech, standing singly, 
and with room to spread. 

19. The leaves of tjie reed spread out straight 

on the wind, like ship streamers. 

20. The darker and more tempestuous the night, 

the more luminous the sea to the leeward of 
the vessel. 

2 1 . A vessel when first seen at sea, appears to be 

ascending. 

22. Odd appearance of the cobwebs on a frosty 

morning. 

23. In a hoar morning the cattle track their 

feeding path by their breath thawing the 
frost. 

24. A clouded morning after snow. The line 

of hill scarcely to be distinguished from the 
sky by being lighter. 

25. Rime on the trees. 

26. Sparkling of the snow. 

27. White frost on the stone wall, but none on 

the moss in its interstices, as though the 
force of vegetable life repelled it. 

28. Move where you will at sea, the long line 

of moonlight still meets your eye. 

29. When the wind follows the sun, it omens 

fair weather, and vice versa. 

30. April 25. The petals of the pilewort grow 

white when over-blown. The first buds of 
the ash are black,* they then redden, and 
appear not unlike the valerian flower, a 
cluster of red seeds. 

* Also noticed by Tennyson. 



southey's diary. 75 

31. The horse-chestnut buds covered with gum, 

and woolly within. 

32. The cry of the bat comes so short and quick 
as to be felt in the ear like a tremulous 
touch. 

t,^. At evening the reflection of the bridge on 
the water was strong as reality, and blended 
with the bridge into one pile. 

34. After a battle — the bank weeds of the 

stream bloody. 

35. Tameness of the birds where gunpowder is 

unknown. 

36. The sound of a running brook like distant 

voices. 

37. There is a sort of vegetable that grows in 

the water like a green mist or fog. 

38. Holly — its white bark. 

39. Beech in autumn — its upmost branches stript 

first and all pointed upwards. 

40. Moss on the cot-thatch the greenest object. 

41. Redness of the hawthorn with its berries. 

42. Water, like polished steel, dark, or splendid. 

43. Trees, like men, grow stiff with age ; their 

brittle boughs break in the storm — a light 
breeze moves only their leaves. * * * 

44. I have seen the yellow leaves of the ash and 

birch in Autumn give a sunshiny appear- 
ance to the trees — a hectic beauty. * * 

45. Sept. 28. Crackling of the furze-pods in a 

hot day. 

46. Trees are grey by torchlight. 

47. The clouds spot the sea with purple. * * 

48. The ripe redness of the grass. * * * 

49. The flags sword leaves. * * * * * 



76 NATURE-STUDY. 

50. The reed-rustling breeze. 

51. The sea like burnished silver. Morning. 

52. April 23. The blossoms swept from the 

fruit-tree like a shower of snow. * * 

53. I observed the motion of the corn most 

like the sparkling of a stream in the sun. 

54. Sunset, seen through a grove of firs. * 

55. Green light of the evening sky where it 

last lingers. 

The following are offered as similes : — 

56. An uncharitable man to the desert — which 

receives the sunbeams and the rain, and 
returns no increase. 
5 7. Meet adversity — like the cedar in the snow. 

58. Sorrow, misfortunes. — I have seen a dark 

cloud that threatened to hide the moon 
grow bright as it passed over her, and only 
make her more beautiful. Aug. 7. Cintra, 
1 1 at night. ***** 

59. Desertion — weeds seeding in the garden or 

courtyard, or on the altar. * * * * 

60. The wind hath a human voice. 

61. Grass twinkling with the morning dew. 

We have thus presented to our minds many 
unconnected observations on appearances of the 
sun and moon, of clouds and dew, of the sea 
and still waters, of wind and sky ; but most of 
all about vegetation as noticed in the fern, 
hawthorn, holly, birch, elm, ash, and plane tree ; 
likewise in corn, grass, pilewort, lichens, leaves, 
blossoms, and seeds ; also in the swan, birds, bat, 
and other objects. From all these the poet was 
provided with images and similes ; but by what 



PROSAIC NOTES. 77 

process to be wrought out, or whether left to 
suitable states of mind, and natural impulses, 
unaided by any premeditated process, must for 
ever remain merely matter for conjecture. Pro- 
bably enough his process was as unmethodical 
as his course of observations was desultory. He 
notes that still water shines like ' steel,' and the 
sea like ' silver ' ; the wind has a c human voice,' 
and the barking of a dog becomes ' musical ' by 
distance ; which latter observations amount to 
what should suffice to mark him for fame, 
according to the tone of modern criticism. 

These prosaic examples of Nature-Study are 
not only exceedingly interesting in themselves, but 
they effectively illustrate the poet's conception 
of the means he found it best to pursue to attain 
his object ; and these brief notes are in their way, 
not unlike the first rough draughts of figures and 
objects, or the smallest portions of any of them 
dashed off by the artist to serve for after appli- 
cation to his elaborate compositions. It would 
be fortunate for our present purpose did we 
possess more of such proofs of poetic hints, or of 
subjects in Nature promising to be of poetical 
utility. In particular we should be curious to 
learn more than we know, or can conjecture, 
of Wordsworth's intellectual process in his study 
of Nature. It is not without some diffidence 
that we venture to quote what he advances in 
his poem, although appearing to be unequivo- 
cally expressive of his personal sentiments. He 
may or may not have chosen to express his views 
completely : at the same time it is quite certain 
that he would not express without censure, what 



78 NATURE-STUDY. 

he writes as a poet, that was not strictly in 
agreement with his own tenets. Without there- 
fore pressing the argument too far in favour of 
the poet's words being an exposition of his own 
doctrine, it is at least interesting to observe how 
he treats of the subject in respect to influences of 
Nature, through the persons of his poem in 
The Excursion. He relates of the Old Pedlar 
that in respect to Nature : — 

While yet a child, and long before his time, 
Had he perceived the presence and the power 
Of greatness ; 

Then as to his mode of studying Nature : — 

in the after-day 

Of boyhood, many an hour in caves forlorn, 
And 'mid the hollow depths of naked crags 
He sate, and even in their fixed lineaments, 
Or from the power of a peculiar eye, 
Or by creative feeling overborne, 
Or by predominance of thought oppressed, 
Even in their fixed and steady lineaments 
He traced an ebbing and a flowing mind, 
Expression ever varying ! 

Thus informed, 
He had small need of books ; — 

The young herdsman, as he then was, is de- 
scribed as deficient in 

the pure delight of love 

By sound diffused, or by the breathing air, 
Or by the silent look of happy things, 
Or flowing from the universal face 
Of earth and sky. But he had felt the power 
Of nature, and already was prepared, 
By his intense conceptions, to receive 
Deeply the lesson deep of love which he, 
Whom nature, by whatever means, has taught 
To feel intensely , cannot but receive. 

He proceeds : — 

A Herdsman on the lonely mountain tops, 
Such intercourse was his, and in this sort 
Was his existence oftentimes possessed. 



WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION. 79 

The Herdsman is represented as reading and 
revering the Scriptures : — 

But in the mountains did he feel his faith. 
There did he see the writing ; all things there 
Breathed immortality, revolving life, 
And greatness still revolving ; infinite : 
There littleness was not ; the least of things 

Seemed infinite 

* * * * 

while in the hollow vale, 

Hollow and green, he lay on the green turf 

In pensive idleness. 

* * * # 

Yet, still uppermost, 



Nature was at his heart as if he felt, 
Though yet he knew not how, a wasting power 
In all things which from her sweet influence 
Might tend to wean him. Therefore with her hues, 
Her forms, and with the spirit of her forms, 

He clothed the nakedness of austere truth. 

* * * * 

. before his 18th year 

Accumulated feelings pressed his heart 

With an increasing weight ; he was o'erpowered 

By Nature ; 

And the first virgin passion of a soul 
Communing with the glorious universe. 
Full often wished he that the winds might rage 
When they were silent : far more fondly now 
Than in his earlier season did he love 
Tempestuous nights — the conflict and the sounds 
That live in darkness. 

* * * >:< 

he scanned the laws of light 

Amid the roar of torrents, where they send 
From hollow clefts up to the clearer air 
A cloud of mist, that in the sunshine frames 
A lasting tablet — for the observer's eye 
Varying its rainbow hues. 

* * * * 

* * * * 

* * * * 
Amid the bounties of the year, the peace 
And liberty of nature ; 



80 NATURE-STUDY. 

We would here observe generally, and in con- 
clusion, that the poet's study of Nature is more 
than merely artistic ; he does more than depict 
Nature's outward forms. He looks on Nature as a 
divinity which accords to different minds varying 
influences dependent on the poet's own sensibi- 
lity to beauty, harmony, and grandeur. He is 
bound by no laws to mete out and analyse gross 
matter. His eye is turned on Nature from the 
heliocentric point of view ; and the forms and 
constitution of matter are appreciated by him 
only as we appreciate the stars, for what they 
are, and not for ignoble uses and practical ends. 
He holds the mirror up to Nature, but disdains 
the employment of a microscope. Poetry is an 
art, and not a science ; while science has its own 
province, and is neither to be confounded with art 
nor poetry. Poetry has reigned untrammelled 
in its employment of Nature for many centuries, 
and therefore its own usages can alone prescribe 
its own laws and limits. 



( 8i ) 



Chapter III. 

The absence of methodized Nature-Study; Wordsworth's 
works leave his Philosophy open to dispute ; methodical 
study insisted on : a study independent of science ; 
generalization an important elementary step ; figurative 
language ; its indebtedness to Nature ; examples from 
Prose Writers ; modes suggested for classifying figures 
from Nature. 

The lapse of centuries not having sufficed to 
originate any definite method of studying Na- 
ture to aid the poet and the orator, when taken 
in connection with the conflicting opinions of 
critics, may have confirmed many an inquiring 
mind in the belief that the subject was one 
beyond the power of human ability to master, 
so as to be able to methodize any really practical ' 
system. If to be accomplished, it might be 
argued, to what authority can we point in 
modern times, as more likely to instruct us 
through the medium of his life and works, than 
Wordsworth : a poet who, as he died at 80 years 
of age, was for more than half a century one of 
Nature's most constant votaries ? Unfortunately, 
however, he has not left us in prose anything 
approaching to a philosophy of Nature, in the 
broad sense of the term ; and what we gather 
from his poems as being a practical process is so 
problematical that it would be impossible for 
commentators on his method of study, as taken 
from that source, to agree on any specific method. 
Does the poet of Nature indeed require few 

G 



82 NATURE-STUDY. 

books other than the book of Nature ? Will 
early rising or late lying down, and constant 
living among and ruminating on surrounding 
dead and living and ever-changing creation, 
suffice to impart a full knowledge of Nature ? 
Or, can the poet obtain a knowledge of Nature 
living principally in a city, perhaps in an attic ? 
Questions such as these suggest themselves at 
every stage of our search. 

The adoption of system has not destroyed 
originality of conception in Music, Painting, or 
Sculpture, and it cannot curtail poetical genius, to 
which it rather opens an enlarged sphere of ope- 
ration. But every poet has a dread of being 
trammelled by systematized rules. The study 
itself however is quite apart from the practice to 
which it may lead ; which will differ with dif- 
ferent students. Not all writers and orators 
employ alike the same language and the figura- 
tive speech which they may have learned from 
the same Professors of Philology. 

From what has been advanced, it is evident 
that we must discard any idea of separation or 
subdivisions, receiving some and discarding other 
works of Creation. 

It is not the Poet but the Philosopher, the man 
of science, who parcels out Nature into Astro- 
nomy, Meteorology, Geography, Geology, Mine- 
ralogy, Botany, Zoology, Chemistry, and nu- 
merous other branches affording subdivision of 
labour in abstruse studies of Nature. 

The Study of Nature as exemplified in the 
productions of the Poet or the Orator are distin- 
guished more by common sense refined and 



GENERALIZATION. 83 

enlarged by education, than by scientific accuracy : 
a peculiarity which has not hitherto attracted 
sufficient notice to lead to any important inves- 
tigation ; and yet it is one of paramount impor- 
tance to the poet. Poets do not, as a rule, write 
for poets ; much less for the scholar devoted to 
scientific pursuits ; but, addressing the common 
ear of the public, they appeal to the common eye 
and common sense of illiterate as well as polished 
society. Poets who, like Darwin and his admirers 
and imitators, have adopted a scientific system 
in their botanical and other compositions in verse, 
have signally failed of popularity. 

We are not here considering to what extent 
Nature-Study can be available in poetry generally; 
it is sufficient that when the poet's taste attracts 
him into that region he should find it not a 
waste-howling wilderness, but a mine, a garden, 
a treasure-house stored beyond the power of his 
imagination and fancy to exhaust. 

Generalization is the first or elementary 
step in Nature- Study. To render the study 
of external Nature serviceable for the purposes 
intended, we must adopt that classification which 
is most compact and comprehensive, and which 
promises to be effective. AVhen generalizing, we 
speak of fire, water, earth, and air ; or of rocks, 
plains, forests, and seas : or of man, animals, 
birds, fishes, reptiles, and insects. 

The Poet in his ample range of Nature-Study 
has before his mental vision the entire globe he 
inhabits, rolling through infinite space in its 
aerial ocean, amidst unimagined glories. He is 
indifferent as to the precise number of the 

G 2 



84 NATURE-STUDY. 

elements in Nature; he records no minute 
admeasurements, enters into no exact calculations, 
and spurns laying down the graduated stratifi- 
cations of the earth's crust, or precise classifica- 
tions of plants and animate creation. His 
admiration of the heavens has never aided 
astronomical observations ; and he is enraptured 
with each season of the year, without consulting 
meteorological tables. He deals only with un- 
disputed facts, patent to age and youth, the 
highest and plainest orders of intellect ; in daily 
occurrences, and the common stock of knowledge 
of every-day life, disturbing no man's judgment, 
and yet surprising and delighting mankind like 
the sun in April, the rainbow after a shower, 
or moonlight after nights of gloomy darkness. 

Thus viewed, Nature-Study is replete with 
commonplaces, as well as sublimities; and not the 
least pleasing to human nature are those objects 
from which flow the earliest teachings of our 
common parent. Poets and moralists avail 
themselves of even this simply expressed love of 
Nature to present to our minds some new and 
agreeable versions of the purity of snow, the 
industry of bees, the perfume of the rose, or 
other familiar fact. As, however, iteration is 
far from being an exhaustive process, poets by 
adopting it have left all the more treasure 
unexpended, and its plenteous sources almost 
unexplored. 

It will be requisite here to state our present 
knowledge and application of Nature as deve- 
loped through the medium of our language, not 
only in ordinary speech, in the eloquence of the 



METAPHOR. 85 

pulpit, the bar, or the stage; but likewise in 
poetical writings. To do this effectually, a fund 
of evidence must be accumulated too powerful 
to be resisted. As we must consider the subject 
addressed to all classes of society, we consider it 
important to adduce the greatest possible variety 
of illustration ; although it must be admitted that 
from Shakspeare alone might be drawn a fund 
of evidence, almost of itself sufficiently con- 
clusive. 

The infusion into our ordinary language of 
expressions associated with natural objects, gives 
rise to a metaphorical style of speech and 
writing. Professor Max Miiller* distinguishes 
two kinds of metaphor, the one radical, the 
other poetical. By radical he means any root 
that having a definite meaning is nevertheless 
variously applied ; as, to shine, employed in 
relation to the sun, fire, spring, morning, 
thought, joy, &c. But by poetical metaphor 
he understands the transference of nouns or 
verbs, such as 'fingers,' to express the sun's rays; 
' star,' w r hen applied to a flower ; ' ship,' to a 
cloud ; to call the sun, ' horse,' &c. 

Nature presents to our senses abundant objects 
and phenomena that associate admirably with 
human thought and language in the utterance 
of forcible expression. Had we no other than 
a knowledge of the four elements, as awarded 
to Nature by an ancient school of philosophy, 
it is surprising what extensive use we can make 
of them. Fire in every form and degree would 

* See his Lectures on the Science of Language, Second 
Series, 8vo, 1S64. 



86 NATURE-STUDY. 

stimulate our imagination, and we should find 
in ourselves or our fellow creatures fiery dis- 
position, hot displeasure, heated fancy, light of 
knowledge, dark ignorance, &c. Water in like 
manner would lead to a different arrangement 
of ideas, and we might in allusion to it speak 
of the bubble fame, misty speech, torrents of 
abuse, the tide of opinion, a shower of praise. 
Earth would suggest — groundless charges, flinty- 
hearted, iron-fisted, root and branch, fruits of 
experience, brute force, lynx-eyed, &c. While 
Air would supply a plenitude of — airy no- 
things, stormy debate, thunders of applause, 
and the like. 

If instead of that division we take any other, 
as for example, Animal Nature, we should then 
have — lion-hearted, lamb-like, wolfish eyes, 
bowels of compassion, hunger after knowledge, 
food for the mind, thirsting for revenge, flying 
from danger, hatching mischief, growth in good 
or evil, &c. 

Language abounds in words which are sy- 
nonymously used in reference to mind and 
matter; for instance — dark, light, cultivated, 
enriched, pregnant, fruitful, barren, with many 
others. Whether we speak of a cultivated 
mind, or cultivated ground ; a dark under- 
standing, or a dark night, no confusion of ideas 
can possibly ensue, for on the contrary the dis- 
tinctions intended to be drawn are defined thus 
in a clearer and livelier manner. 

We wish to show the most simple form in 
which language is associated with objects and 
facts appertaining to the external world, irre- 



NATURAL OBJECTS. 87 

spective of the speaker or writer having in view- 
any narrative or description of material Nature. 
The speaker may charge an adversary with the 
bloodthirstiness of the tiger ; and having 
named such an animal, or from its being present 
to his mind, he may use words indirectly derived 
from that creature's nature and habits, giving 
rise to strength, sinews, claws, power, fangs, 
jaws, swiftness, speed, lying in wait; which taken 
alone would appear irrespective of the creature 
that suggested their employment. And, there- 
fore, the same use of language might follow, 
although the creature giving rise to them had 
never been named, but had only been reflected 
in the speaker's mind without any direct refer- 
ence to distinguish any particular savage animal. 
The same remarks will apply to any other 
subject, whether expressed, implied, or only 
figuratively present to the speaker's mind. What- 
ever words impress us with an idea of objects 
in Nature, or their properties, or circumstances 
appertaining to them, or that lead to the impres- 
sion that such statements can only relate to an 
animal, or a vegetable, or inert matter, and the 
like, is directly or indirectly due to Nature. 
All other words are of artificial construction, 
such as temple, altar, goddess, satyr, garland, 
vest, crown, pen, paper, book. 

Let us now turn, for a practical illustration, to 
the first ten pages of the first volume of Lord 
Macaulay's History of England, 1856, which, 
from the grave character of the subject, cannot 
be expected to afford any very flowery expres- 
sions, or other than a chaste yet characteristic 



88 NATURE-STUDY. 

example of verbal construction. He writes 
(page 8):— 

Men still living — the course of — long struggle — bound 
up together — sprung — rapidly rose — grew together — a gi- 
gantic — sinks into — less splendid — more durable — gave 
birth — a withered and disturbed member adding no strength 
to the body — feared or envied — the breasts of — a golden 
age — decay — man — the rise and fall of — through ages — 
pass (rapidly) — the tongue of — drove out — speech — dis- 
solved — the other hand — listened — serpents — the air — the 
ground — the darkness begins to (break) — lost to view — 
brute violence — sunk in — physical force — corporeal strength 
— narrow-minded — the dark ages — vigour of muscle — the 
fiercest — uncleared woods — female — plants and minerals — 
darkness and tempest — the deluge — feeble germ — to spring 
— productive — grew up — seas and mountains — glittering — 
to pour forth — ferocity — coast — island — the sun — stream 
of — begun to rise, was met by this blow, and sank down. 

We have here words and expressions allusive 
or distinctly applying to human, animal, reptile, 
vegetable, and mineral creation ; together with 
celestial and other phenomena. 

The same eloquent writer in his Essays, 1850, 
criticising Moore's Life of Lord Byron, affords 
the following selection : — 

Clear and manly (style) — rises into eloquence — without 
effort — so little pain — the living — a large circle — stiffness — 
nature — deep and painful — sad and dark — being softened — 
strength and weakness (of his intellect) — rage — tender- 
ness — caresses — deformity — the world — his mother — child 
of nature — a crowd — his feet — dizzy — eminence — men — ■ 
women — this world — youth — passions — love — the flash and 
outbreak of that — fiery mind which glowed — fondness — 
rage — tangible — the howl of — the sea — the Alps — with tears 
— his face — the shores of the Adriatic — picturesque — 
brightest of skies — brightest of seas — the vice — a race — 
wild — bitter disdain. 

From the character of the subject the language 
is here more indebted to human than to external 
Nature ; but it is offered as an example, without 



PROSE COMPOSITIONS. 89 

preference for the matter, as being every way 
sufficient to exemplify the degree to which 
language is affected by associations with the 
outer world. 

Very different in its strain and style is a 
specimen selected from the first fifteen pages of 
the Inaugural Address of Mr. Thomas Carlyle, 
as Rector of the University, Edinburgh, j866: 

The vineyard — it grows — this world — the heart — young 
men— yours is the golden season of life — the seed-time 
of life — if you sow tares instead of wheat, — the season when 
you are young in years, — the whole mind is, as it were 
fluid, — talk — the mind — hardens gradually, to the con- 
sistency of rock or of iron — an old man — transparent 
— the outside skin — this universe — (with) fruit — darken 
counsel by — words — flocked — the man speaking to you vo- 
cally — the culture of — populations — their eye — the deepest 
heads — what is the nature of this stupendous universe, — 
this wonderful universe — races of men in the world — shin- 
ing — utter darkness — face to face — beautiful and sunny — 
deep-toned — features — flying away — take the lion by the 
beard. 

The language here employed concerns human 
nature and conveys advice to the rising genera- 
tion of young men to cultivate their under- 
standings. . The speaker, keeping universal 
Nature in mind, presents us with its seasons and 
its animal and vegetable kingdoms with their 
products and properties, from whence he draws 
a consequent style of expression to enforce his 
arguments in favour of mental cultivation. 

We find in such a fictitious narrative as The 
Old Curiosity Shop, by Mr. Charles Dickens, a 
more copious use is made of these direct draughts 
from Nature; for example, in the first half of 
the first chapter we meet with : — 

Old — night — walking — summer — morning — fields and 
lanes — days or weeks — the country — after dark — Heaven — 



90 NATURE-STUDY. 

I love its light — it sheds upon the earth — any creature 
living — fallen — The glare and hurry of broad noon — a 
glimpse of passing faces — the light of — night — day — air- 
built — tread of feet — a sick man — footsteps — pain and 
weariness — the child's step — the man's — the stream of life 
— pouring on — restless dreams — dead — the water — green 
banks which grow wider and wider — broad vast sea — lie 
sleeping in the sun — in the spring or summer — when the 
fragrance of sweet flowers is in the air — streams of — driving 
the dusty thrush — all night long — Poor bird ! — watered — 
filled their breasts with visions of the country — a soft sweet 
voice — a pretty little girl — a very long way — brought a tear 
into the child's clear eye — look at my face — her very small 
and delicate frame — youthfulness — her quick eye — growing 
more — I love these little people — clapping her hands — 
running on — very dark and silent — a faint light — a little 
old man with long grey hair, whose face and figure, as he 
held the light above his head, and looked before him — his 
spare and slender form — Their bright blue eyes — his face 
— deeply furrowed — the public eye — The haggard aspect of 
the little old man — in his face — shaking his head — fixed 
his eyes upon the fire — her light brown hair hanging loose 
about her neck, and her face flushed — few grown persons 
— the ways of life — infants — the springs are deep — my arm 
— he cried — laugh — childlike — smiling — lad — wide mouth, 
very red cheeks, a turned-up nose — (comical) face — his 
hand — stood — the boy — his voice — a loud roar — his mouth 
wide open, and his eyes nearly shut, laughing violently — 
the child's bright eyes were dimmed with tears — fulness 
of heart — put her arm about his neck — Do I love thee ? — 
her caresses, and laid her head upon his breast — sob — 
swallowing — bawled — patting the child's cheek — his teeth 
— his knees — midnight — her eyes lighting up — above 
ground — opening his mouth, and shutting his eyes. 

The nature of the subject in this instance will 
account for the liberal use of words suggested by 
human nature, and other objects. It could 
scarcely be otherwise, in giving an account of 
the old man, little girl, the boy, with requisite 
human associations. It must be remembered 
however, that the story is laid in the dingy 
town, and not in a rural district, yet observe the 
writer's ability in throwing over a dull, dusty, 



PROSE COMPOSITIONS. 9 1 

uninviting neighbourhood, the halo of his genius, 
and making a country where no country exists. 
What a charm there is in ' summer fields and 
lanes, the country, green banks, heaven ; ' and 
how redolent the air with ' the fragrance of 
sweet flowers.' 

The literature of history, politics, and law, 
is usually described as dry ; and this expression 
might be applied to the great body of works 
relating to the philosophy of the mind, and to 
sciences generally ; of which even Dr. Johnson 
must have felt conscious, when he spoke of ' the 
dusty deserts of barren philology.' But as the 
subjects of literary composition recede from rigid 
and severe studies, in the same proportion do 
they become more open to be allied to external 
nature, and to assume a lighter air, and even a 
flowery expression. 

From the first 20 pages of A Chapter of 
Autobiography, by the Rt. Hon. W. E. Glad- 
stone, M.P., 1868, we quote the following, 
partly in support of the foregoing statement, 
the subject being both political and personal ; 
and from so distinguished a classical scholar, we 
have a composition in that severe classical style, 
which is farthest removed from a general asso- 
ciation with external natural objects, if we except 
human Nature, and, consequently, the least 
figurative possible : — 

Gentle death — life — glaring — silent — a person — an indi- 
vidual — fire — the light — died away — grounds of — language 
— freezes the blood — a man — to laugh — seen (seeing) — the 
living — the dead — the mind — men — life — nature — to reflect 
— element — my hands — autumn — eyesight — lived — vigor- 
ous and brilliant — hand of — appetite — season — painfully — 



92 NATURE-STUDY. 

recollection — the soul — the world — root — hearts — vitality 
live — die — quickened — deadened. [With repetitions of — 
men, 6 times ; life, 6 ; mind, 5 ; and grounds, 4 times.] 

The master idea principally governs any 
peculiarities in the construction of the language 
we are examining. We should find it less 
apparent, therefore, in an architect's description 
of a Cathedral, than in the narrative of the 
same edifice from the pen of a romance writer; 
the one limited to the technicalities of his pro- 
fession ; the other freely ranging the fields of 
imagination. In like manner, a writer on 
Mythology would be drier in his language than 
the lettered traveller describing Greece and 
Rome. 

It cannot escape notice that language in this 
particular respect adopts objects and their known 
qualities directly from Nature, either singly, as 
substances, or compounded, as epithets or ad- 
jectives. To the former would belong, for ex- 
ample : Man, woman, child, flesh, blood, bone, 
head, eyes, hands, feet, bowels, back, shoulders ; 
and to the latter the states or qualities of 
objects, as : — Birth, life, death, soul, mind, in- 
telligence, tallness, strength, swiftness, &c, to- 
gether with negative qualities. Corporeally, we 
only see objects ; Mentally, we are cognizant of 
their qualities and phenomena. Man only 
knows himself in these two senses, and that very 
imperfectly, seeing he is wholly ignorant of life 
and death. 

Passing from this artless, natural system of 
phraseology, which gives clearness, force, and 
picturesqueness to the least complex form of 



FIGURES OF SPEECH. 93 

language, we proceed to that elaborated mode of 
expression which requires the speaker's utmost 
skill and polish in its construction, styled Meta- 
phor, in the use of which there is no small 
danger of incurring the charge of being more 
artificial than natural ; as in the line : — 

The mind the music breathing from the face ; 

which Taylor, in his Essays, 1849, n °tices 
as having no more relation to respiration than 
the title of a certain book named Holy Breath- 
ings. It is, however, next to impossible for an 
exact student of Nature-Study to be guilty of 
such far-fetched conceits. 

Among all figures of speech, Metaphor stands 
foremost. But it is not requisite in the present 
instance to examine minutely into either the 
construction of Metaphor, or allegory, com- 
parison, apostrophe, antithesis, hyperbole, with 
other forms of figurative expression. When 
they derive their chief attributes from Nature, 
they directly call for our attention, and we be- 
come immediately alive to the speaker's or 
writer's mode of treating his subject ; take, for 
example, Lord Macaulay's description of the 
Reformation, in the second volume of his Essays, 
reviewing the work by Dr. Nares on Burleigh, 
and his Times, where he says : — 

That volcano has spent its rage. The lava has covered 
with a rich incrustation the fields which it once devastated, 
and, after having turned a beautiful and fruitful garden into 
a desert, has again turned the desert into a still more 
beautiful and fruitful garden. The second great eruption 
is not yet over. The marks of its ravages are still all 
around us. The ashes are still hot beneath our feet. In 
some directions, the deluge of fire still continues to spread, 



94 NATURE-STUDY. 

yet experience surely entitles us to believe that this ex- 
plosion, like that which preceded it, will fertilize the soil 
which it h,as devastated. 

Ossian's poems are much admired and fre- 
quently quoted for just metaphors, as that on a 
hero : — 

In peace, thou art the gale of spring ; in war, the 
mountain storm. 

On a woman : — 

She was covered with the light of beauty ; but her heart 
was the house of pride. 

It is not our purpose to enlarge on this subject, 
nor to insist on any particular classification of 
figures, or that slightly figurative phrases are not 
truly metaphorical. It must be allowed that 
we cannot deviate ever so slightly from the 
strict signification of any word without pro- 
ducing a trope. Light is of the sun, and when 
* light ' is used in connection with ' under- 
standing ' we admit its being metaphorically 
correct. It is ' a simile in a word. 5 

We have figures of words, and figures of 
thoughts ; the former the common property of 
all classes of the community, whereas the latter 
are the special products alone of poetry and 
eloquence. Our language is metaphorical when 
we substitute ' sunshine' for prosperity ; 'heart' 
for courage; ' to ruminate' for to meditate; 
'cloud' for obscurity; 'heat' for anger; 'smiling' 
for pleasant ; 'to vegetate' for to live ; with many 
other expressions of a similar derivation. Or we 
might express the same sense in another form, 
as : In the sunshine of prosperity ; his courageous 



CLASSICAL ELOQUENCE. 95 

heart ; ruminating ; beclouded ; hot displeasure ; 
smiling harvest, &c. 

Lord Brougham, in his Dissertation on the 
Eloquence of the Ancients, remarks that: — 

The ancients, particularly the Attic school, 
were sparing of the more elaborate ornaments of 
eloquence ; unless we regard as such, enumera- 
tion, repetition, antithesis, interrogation, and the 
other forms of condensed and vigorous expression, 
which are not to be reckoned tropes at all. But 
with metaphor, hyperbole, apostrophe, they cer- 
tainly did overload their oratory. 

From the Sacred Writings numerous illustra- 
tions might be drawn. Our Lord says : — 

Consider the lilies how they grow : they toil not, they 
spin not ; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his 
glory was not arrayed like one of these. 

If then God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in the 
field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven ; how much 
more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith ? St. Luke xii. 
27, 28. 

The present examples will suffice to illustrate 
the use of external nature in the language of 
prose compositions. 

Not many poets are writers in prose also, nor 
do they generally employ their pens in both 
styles with equal success. But of all writers of 
prose, poets are most likely to employ a style of 
composition at once florid, figurative, and inflated ; 
and are in continual danger of degenerating into 
poetical prose : of all styles the most per- 
nicious. The prose compositions of the poets 
Scott, Byron, Southey, Coleridge, Moore, at 
once suggest themselves to our memory and 
admiration, for their characteristic excellences 



96 NATURE-STUDY. 

as novelists, biographers, letter writers, and 
critics. 

Various classifications might be made to include 
the several kinds of epithets derived from natural 
objects, their effects, and phenomena. We might, 
for example, arrange them under several sciences 
as follows : — 

Metaphysics. — The mind's eye — mental constitution — 
strong minded — vigorous intellect — tender hearted — 
nervous writer — sound reasoning — stubborn will. 

Optics. — Mirrored forth — magnified evil — transparent 
trick — glassy pool — ' a green and yellow melan- 
choly.' 

Astronomy. — sunny side — moon-stricken — quite a star — 
dark ages — a ray of light. 

Meteorology. — A wind-fall — stormy passion — a cloudy 
prospect — a misty discourse. 

Natural History. — A brutal man — a savage wretch — 
sheepish — lion-hearted — monkeyish tricks — dove- 
like — lamb-like. 

Geology. — Flinty-hearted — stone-blind, sandy foundation 
— plastic disposition — like adamant. 

Botany. — The flower of the army — seeds of promise — 
rosy cheeks — fall of the leaf — the ' yellow and seare' 
the pith of it — in the bud — fruits of education — root 
and branch — engrafted — springing up — withered. 

But any other arrangement would serve the 
purpose here intended equally well, provided it 
were more in unison with the student's own 
feelings, or better suited to establish itself in his 
memory. He might prefer, for instance, to asso- 
ciate in one class all epithets appertaining to 
human nature ; instead of arranging, according 
to circumstances, one under Botany, and another 
under Astronomy, or other similar divisions. 
The more simple the classification can be made, 
the better. 

Sufficient, however, has been advanced to 



INFLUENCE ON LANGUAGE. 97 

satisfy the reader that Nature materially assists 
in imparting strength to the most humble as 
well as to the loftiest language. Every writer 
on philology notices this conspicuous fact in its 
broad simple aspect; — that is, to the extent 
already illustrated ; but its bearing on general 
literature, and on poetical compositions especially, 
has been overlooked ; its operations have never 
been farther investigated ; and its capability of 
learned extension does not appear to have been 
even suspected by the most astute writers. But 
the same process which has been so slow in its 
progress, and so unintrusive on common observa- 
tion, may yet prove to be capable of much greater 
results than at present contemplated : for we can 
but consider our work as an intermediate step 
in an investigation promising abundant useful 
results. 



H 



( 98 ) 



Chapter IV. 

Proverbs, ancient and modern ; strictures on so-called 
Proverbial Philosophy; Scripture proverbs; Proverbs 
from iEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides ; Persian, Turkish, 
and Afghan proverbs ; Shakspeare's proverbs ; Ray's 
collection, &c; analysis showing natural objects, &c, 
employed in the proverbs quoted. 

Passing from the consideration of language 
itself, and of its employment in oratorical and 
written prose compositions, we proceed to offer 
a few observations on the language of Proverbs,* 
those household words which are common to all 
nations ; and which derive considerable interest 
when examined in connection with their anti- 
quity, and their frequent approach to a rude 
kind of poetry : especially in so far as they are 
often alliterative, and not unfrequently highly 

* Ray, in the first edition of his Collection of Proverbs, 
offers as his opinion that a proverb is ' a short sentence 
or phrase in common use, containing some trope, figure, 
homonymy, rhyme, or other novelty of expression.' In the 
second edition he notices his having admitted 'many English 
phrases that are not properly proverbs, though that word 
be taken in its greatest latitude.' 

The editor of a fourth edition remarks : ' The dignity of 
Proverbs is self-evident. The most learned among the 
ancients studied and recorded them, and transmitted them 
to their successors as the most memorable instructions of 
human life. Plutarch, Theophrastus, Plato, and Erasmus, 
with many others, thought the knowledge of them an 
honourable study. Aristotle places proverbs among the 
undeniable testimonies of truth. Quintilian, on account of 
their veracity and success, commends them as helps to the 
art of speaking and writing well.' 



PROVERBS. 99 

imaginative. We find in Proverbs taken collec- 
tively, that prolific use is made of natural objects, 
facts, and phenomena due to an acute observance 
of material Nature ; which in such sayings of 
wise men of old, were employed metaphorically 
to impress on the memory and to enforce moral 
maxims, or some thrifty rule of conduct in every- 
day life ; for which purpose they rarely, if ever, 
soar above the veriest common-places of Nature. 

It is to the advantage of a proverb to be 
pointed, and therefore striking; its matter so 
obvious as to admit of no doubt, for if disputable 
it would no longer be a proverb, but might 
become an excellent enigma. 

It is our purpose, however, to direct attention 
principally to the dependence of a large number 
of proverbs on facts directly deducible from the 
objects and appearances presented to our observa- 
tion in the course of daily experience, requiring 
no learned or laboured comment to render them 
intelligible to ordinary mental capacity. 

A proverb being complete in itself, it is of 
all compositions the most concentrated and curt 
in style ; and whole pages of proverbs would be 
little other than maxims mostly rendered in an 
antithetical form, a style incompatible with 
diffuse expressions of sentiments. Taken as a 
text any proverb would afford matter for a 
lengthened discourse ; but while the discourse 
might soon pass from the hearer's recollection, 
he would find the text or proverb engraved on 
his memory. Nay, even an epigrammatic dress 
would have sunk into oblivion nine-tenths of our 
proverbs had that style been adopted in their 

H 2 
L. »f C. 



I OO NATURE-STUDY. 

composition. One line, or two at most, seems to 
be their maximum length, assisted by c allitera- 
tion's artful aid,' or rhyme. 

The most pretentious edition of such produc- 
tions in modern times by a single author, is the 
Proverbial Philosophy, by Martin F. Tupper, 
who bridges over the difficulty that would arise 
from too great variety, by presenting his readers 
with a number of so-called proverbs, under such 
headings as : ' Words of Wisdom ; ' c Hidden 
Uses ' ; ' Invention ' ; ' Authorship,' &c. Had 
each of his proverbs been independent of such 
an arrangement, his store would have occupied 
a much less volume. But even with this advan- 
tage he has had to resort to much borrowing and 
redressing of other men's thoughts ; and where 
he is original he is mostly extravagant and pro- 
portionably unnatural — meaning thereby so far 
as Nature-Study is concerned, in which light 
alone we view his work. That he has some 
good points his Preface will show, as in the 
following lines : — ■ 

Sweet is the virgin honey, though the wild bee have 

stored it in a reed ; 
And bright the jewelled band, that circleth an Ethiop's 

arm ; 
Pure are the grains of gold in the turbid stream of 

Ganges, 
And fair the living flowers, that spring from the dull 

cold sod. 

And again also under the title of Hidde?i 

Uses : — 

The world may laugh at famine, when forest-trees yield 

bread, 
When acorns give out fragrant drink, and the sap of the 

linden is as fatness. 

But the Poet studying Nature through the 



PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. IOI 

C spectacles ' of this Philosophy, would have much 
to unlearn : than which no mental process is more 
difficult and harassing. 

The Words of Wisdom, we regret to have it 
to say, are, in this book replete with the unna- 
tural and artificial ; such as the following 
conceit : — 

As the beaded bubbles that sparkle in the rim of the cup 
of immortality. 

And again such gorgeous grandeur as : — 

They be grains of the diamond sand, the radiant floor of 

heaven, 
Rising in sunny dust behind the chariot of God. 

Among Hidden Uses, the Chemist is spoken 
of as : — 

Commanding stones that they be bread, and drawing 
sweetness out of wormwood. 

Speaking Of Invention, we are treated to 
another chemical, or rather presumed chemical, 
fact, thus : — 

Invention is activity of mind, as fire is air in motion ; 
With Pope in his mind, he says Of Author- 
ship : — 

it addeth immortality to dying facts that are 

ready to vanish away, 
Embalming as in amber the poor insects of an hour. 

Pope wrote : — 

Like flies in amber neither rich nor rare, 
We wonder how the devil they got there. 

Criticism is not our purpose beyond the range 
of matters affecting Nature-Study ; and as poets 
draw their information from all streams of 
knowledge, it behoves us to point out the short- 
comings of those who affect to teach in direct 



102 NATURE-STUDY. 

accordance with the influences of external Nature ; 
or to present to us its noble or its minute features 
faithfully delineated ; and when we find the 
Harvey style of Meditations reproduced in a 
promised proverbial form, we cannot feel other- 
wise than offended with the substitution of tinsel 
for precious metal, of paste for rubies, and of 
artificial light and colouring in glorification of 
the great universe of animate and inanimate 
Nature. Homer gives his deities a pavement of 
gold ; Tupper finds the floor of heaven ' radiant' 
with c diamond sand,' all phosphorescent ; for he 
sees it c rising in sunny dust.' Then his 
chemistry can c command stones that they be 
bread ' ; bread from the metallic bases of stones ! 
Again ' fire is air in motion ' ; as every storm, 
hurricane, cyclone does of course yearly prove ! 

True proverbial philosophy is productive of 
sayings devoid of all meretricious ornament. The 
wise, the good and prudent teachers of mankind 
taught the rising generation through the medium 
of adages, which often repeated, were frequently 
called old sayings ; only becoming trite from 
their being too obviously true ; they were not 
removed beyond ordinary understanding like the 
affected imitations we have just noticed, which 
only excite surprise from their remoteness from 
all human sympathies, and consequently pre- 
sumed mystery, depth, and wisdom ; there being 
a certain enchantment even in Nature itself 
arising from fogs and mists. 

But to proceed to examples of long-approved 
proverbs, their sterling worth, and close adherence 
to the simple, plain, and obvious in the material 



ANCIENT PROVERBS. I 03 

world, we quote the following, commencing with 
the Sacred Writings, from which we select from 
the Book of Job : — 

1. (Wisdom.) It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall 

silver be weighed for the price of it. xxviii. 15. 

2. For the ear trieth words, as the mouth tasteth meat. 

xxxiv. 3. 

From Proverbs the following : — 

3. Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways and 

be wise. vi. 6. 

4. Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not 

be burned ? vi. 27. 

5. As the whirlwind passeth, so is the wicked no more. 

x. 25. 

6. As vinegar to the teeth, and as smoke to the eyes, so 

is the sluggard to them that send him. x. 26. 

7. As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair 

woman which is without discretion, xi. 22. 

8. Look. not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it 

giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself 
aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and 
stingeth like an adder, xxiii. 31, 32. 

9. As a roaring lion, and a raging bear ; so is a wicked 

ruler over his poor people, xxviii. 15. 

From Professor Thompson's Sails Attici, 
1867, we select various maxims derived from 
the Athenian Tragic Drama ; from iEschylus : — 

10. The will of God is hard to understand. The fortunes 

of men are enveloped in darkness ; but darkness to 
Him is as the light of noonday. — The ways of His 
thoughts are as the passages in a wood thick with 
leaves, through the which one seeth but a little 
way. i . 

n. if it be His will that we be saved, a great root 

shall spring from out a little seed. 3. 

12. (Expe?ience.) There is an old Libyan fable, that an 
eagle, struck with an arrow, saw the winged portion 
of the shaft, and said : ' I am killed with feathers 
from my own wing.' 65. 



1 04 NATURE-STUDY. 

13. Misery is a bird that never for two days hath his 
feathers of one colour. 77. 

14. Alter not ancient customs with meddlesome innova- 
tion : if thou troublest clear water, thou wilt lose 
thy drink. 114. 

15. Run thou with never so nimble feet, 
Sorrow, thou'lt find, is twice as fleet. 122. 

16. {Good Temper.) A ripe mulberry is sweet; but a man 
of gentle temper is sweeter. 129. 

17. partnership in ill is as a tree 

Whose Autumn fruit pays not the gathering ; 
A good man, when he ventures forth to sea 
With evil messmates sinks beneath one wave. 132. 

18. Leave foes alone ; and give thine heart 
To such as will like love impart : 

The silly goat, so have I heard, 

Once kissed the fire, and lost his beard. 154. 

19. When waves of trouble come over us, we say that 
troubles will never end ; when God sendeth a fair 
wind, we think that the fair wind will never cease 
a-blowing. 208. 

20. mortal blessings come and go, 

As flit sun-shadows athwart a wall. 62. 

21. We cast in sun light shadows on the wall ; 
And, what we cast, that only are we all. 78. 

22. Man's life's a vapour, and full of woes ; 
He cuts a caper, and down he goes. 81. 

Again, from Sophocles we have : — 

23. the years roll by for ever and for ever; 1. 

24. [The sorrowing and miserable] it is with them 

as when a storm cometh from the North, and 
sweepeth over darken'd waters; it upheaveth the 
sand from the depths of the sea, and the shores 
re-echo to the lashing of the billows. 2. 

25. Some will of the Sire divine 

Ask rainy weather, and some sun-shine ; 
And some will fret, if showers down tumble, 
And if the sun shines some will grumble. 353. 

26. Of Autumn fruits when gathered 

Half the precious sweet is gone, 
If upon the tree hath fed 

The Wasp, Anticipation. 391. 



TURKISH PROVERBS. 105 



And from Euripides, namely 



27. God's storms uproot the stubborn oak, 

But pass the bending willow by ; 
The vale unharm'd beholds the stroke, 

That blasts the mountain-peak on high. 35. 

28. Behold yon high and infinite space 
That clasps the earth in close embrace ; 
In yon blue clear immensity, 

Thy God revealed hath to thee 

All of Himself thou e'er may'st see. 40. 

29. High mountain peaks draw lightning down. 422. 
29* Honey is sweet, and Love is sweet, but Vengeance 

is sweeter than Love or Honey. 464. 

30. one head was meant, e'er since the world began, 

To fit the shoulders of a state or man ; 486. 

31. Nothing is safe from peril ; nor beast, nor man, nor 

state : 490. 

32. Wise men, like rams, fight only with the head. 734. 

33. One pair of eyes cannot see everything. 808. 

Among examples of Persian Proverbs* we 
find:— 

34. One fish devours another, but the kingfisher devours 

both. (As when two quarrellers are punished by 
the magistrate.) 

35. The five fingers are not all alike. 

36. When an elephant sticks in the mud, it requires a 

strong elephant to pull him out. 

37. A bunch (of grapes) has but one stalk. {Concentrate 

your labour — one purpose?) 

38. The tree that has only just taken root may be pulled 

up by the strength of a man. 

39. When one is thirsty, a thousand pearls are not worth 

one drop of water. 

40. The trees that bear fruit bear a burden as well. 

From a small collection of Turkish Proverbs, 
translated into English, i2mo. Venice, i860, 
we select : — 

41. Every thing which comes from heaven, the earth 

receives it. 

* From a collection by Thos. Roebuck, 8vo. Calcutta, 1824. 



1 06 NATURE-STUDY. 

42. The bird feels not its wing heavy, 

43. Whether sugar be white or black, it preserves its 

proper taste. 

44. It matters less to a man where he is born than 

where he can live. 

45. Every flower has its perfume. 

46. Two hands are for the defence of one head. 

47. Although the fly be small among insects, yet it has 

power to turn the stomach of man. 

48. There are not sweet onions, nor white figs. 

Among other specimens of Raverty's Afghan 
poetry, 8vo., 1862, are the following : — 

49. A spoiled son taketh not to discipline and instruction ; 
And a shaded palm-tree yieldeth not ripe dates. 

50. Certainly, the ass and mule are in their place in the 
stable ; but not a blockhead, without application, in 
the house. 

Shakspeare's dramas afford many proverbial 
sayings ; from King Richard II. we take : — 

51. (Bolingbroke to the King) — this must my comfort be, 
That sun that warms you here shall shine on me. 

52. (Bolingbroke referring to the Dtike of Norfolk) 

the more fair and crystal is the sky, 

The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. 

In Troihis and Cressida^ Pandurus says : — 

53. He that will have a cake out of the wheat, must 
needs tarry the grinding. 

And in As you like it occurs : — 

54. Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

The only remaining proverbs we shall offer 
from the same source are selected from Mrs. 
Mary C. Clarke's collection of them, in a small 
volume published in 1858, as follows : — 

55. He that stands upon a slippery place 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 

56. How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature ! 



SHAKSPERIAN PROVERBS. 107 

57. Is the jay more precious than the lark, 
Because his feathers are more beautiful ? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 

58. Idle weeds are fast in growth. 

59. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. 

60. Our very eyes are sometimes like our judgments, 

blind. 

61. Sowed cockle reaped no corn. 

62. Small showers last long, but sudden storms are 

short. 

63. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning and the noon-tide night. 

64. Smooth runs the water when the brook is deep. 

65. Sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste. 

66. Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, 
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 

67. The most forward bud 

Is eaten by the canker ere it blow. 

68. The current, that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage. 

69. The strongest oaths are straw 
To the lire i' the blood. 

70. To die, is to be banished from myself. 

71. This weak impress of love is as a figure 

Trench'd in ice ; which, with an hour's heat, 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 

72. The quality of mercy is not strained, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath. 

73. Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 

74. The hind that would be mated by the lion must die 

for love. 

75. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; 
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. 

76. There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 

77. There are more things in heaven and earth 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 

78. What's in a name ? that which we call a rose 

By any other name would smell as sweet. 



I08 NATURE-STUDY. 

78*. How full of briars is this working-day world ! 

79. Glory is like a circle in the water, 
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 

Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 

80. Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe. 

81. Every cloud engenders not a storm. 

82. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, 
The ear more quick of apprehension makes. 

83. Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. 

84. Checks and disasters 

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; 
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 

85. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt 

not escape calumny. 

In Maunder's 'Treasury of Knowledge, or 
Dictionary, among many others, occur the fol- 
lowing proverbs : — 

86. A good maxim is never out of season. 

87. A bitter jest is the poison of friendship. 

88. A truly great man borrows no lustre from splendid 

ancestry. 

89. A desire for admiration is the offspring of vanity. 

90. A wounded reputation is seldom cured. 

91. Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue. 

92. A good cause makes a stout heart and a strong arm. 

93. A blithe heart makes a blooming visage. 

94. As a bird is known by his note, so is a man by his 

discourse. 

95. Avoid a slanderer as you would a scorpion. 

96. Beware of the geese when the fox preaches. 

97. Beauty is the flower, but virtue is the fruit of life. 

98. Common sense is the growth of all countries. 

99. Contentment is to the mind as light to the eye. 

100. Catch not at the shadow, and lose the substance. 

101. Courage ought to have eyes as well as arms. 

102. Cloudy mornings often bring clear evenings. 

103. Death is deaf, and hears no denial. 

104. Defer not till the evening what the morning may 

accomplish. 



RAY'S PROVERBS. I 09 

105. Deeds are fruits ; words but leaves. 

106. Danger always attends at the heels of pride and 

ambition. 

107. Experience is the mother of science. 

108. Excess and envy waste the flesh and the spirit, 
iog. Every light has its shadow. 

no. Give your tongue more holiday than your hands or 
eyes. 

In conclusion we shall give a selection from 
Mr. Bonn's ample Hand-Book of Proverbs, 
based on Ray's Collections, i2mo., 1845, 
namely : — 

in. No one knows the weight of another's burden. 

112. Beauty is a blossom. 

113. Beauty draws more than oxen. 

114. Beauty is no inheritance. 

115. That which blossoms in the spring, will bring forth 

fruit in the autumn ; 

116. He that blows in the dust, fills his own eyes. 

117. Though the fox runs, the chicken hath wings. 

118. After clouds comes clear weather. 

119. Crooked logs make straight fires. 

120. Every day has its night, every weal its woe. Danish. 

121. Eat to live, but do not live to eat. 

122. No man can flay a stone. 

123. One flower makes no garland. 

124. When the fox is asleep nothing falls into his mouth. 

Fr. 

125. A tree is known by its fruit, and not by its leaves. 

126. The further we go the further behind. 

127. What your glass tells you will not be told by counsel. 

128. One is not so soon healed as hurt. 

129. Every man is best known to himself. 

130. Honey is sweet, but the bee stings. Ital. 

131. Little sticks kindle the fire, but great ones put it out. 

132. The morning sun never lasts a day. 

133. Music helps not the tooth-ache. 

134. Nature draws more than ten oxen. 

135. The nightingale and the cuckoo sing both in one 

month. 



I [O NATURE-STUDY. 

136. Remove an old tree, and it will wither to death. 

137. A rugged stone grows smooth from hand to hand. 

138. Whether you boil snow or pound it, you will have 

but water from it. 

139. Who remove stones, bruise their fingers. 

140. In every country the sun riseth in the morning. 

141. A thin meadow is soon mowed. 

142. The tide will fetch away what the ebb brings. 

143. Time is the rider that breaks youth. 

144. When the tree is fallen, every one goes to it with his 

hatchet. Fr. 

145. As welcome as flowers in May. 

146. Willows are weak, yet they bind other wood. Hal. 

147. Wolves lose their teeth, but not their memory. 

148. Green wood makes a hot fire. 

149. Better give the wool than the sheep. 

150. Good words without deeds are rushes and reeds. 

151. Years know more than books. 

Proverbs that are entire sentences. 

152. A black plum is as sweet as a white. 

153. A black hen lays a white egg. 

A Proverbial rhyme. 

154. Snow is white and lies in the dike, 

And every many lets it lie ; 
Pepper is black and hath a good smack, 
And every man doth it buy. 

A Hebrew Proverb. 

155. A myrtle standing among nettles, does notwith- 

standing retain the name of a myrtle. 

We shall now proceed to analyze the language 
of these proverbs in the same manner as that 
already adopted when examining prose compo- 
sitions, for the amount of the indebtedness of 
such proverbial maxims to the external world. 
And commencing with Animal Creation, we find 
as follows : — 



ANALYSIS OF PROVERBS. I I I 

i, Human Nature. — Man, men, mother, son, youth, age, 
offspring; — head, visage, mouth, teeth, tongue, 
eating, sleep, ears, eyes, blind ; — shoulders, arms, 
hands, fingers, feet, heels : — heart, flesh, blood, 
veins, skin, life, growth, death ; — nature, beauty, 
strength, hurt, wound, healed, cured; — mind, me- 
mory, words, love, vengeance, sorrow, mercy, 
misery, glory, calumny, chaste. 

2. Animal, &c. — i. Elephant, lion, bear, ass, mule, 
rams, goat, sheep, swine, pigs, oxen, hind, fox, 
wolves; — beast, wool. 2. Fish. 3. Eagle, king- 
fisher, cuckoo, nightingale, hen, chicken, geese, 
dove ; — bird, wings, Qgg. 4. Serpent, adder, eel, 
worm, scorpion, ant, wasp, fly, canker, bee, drones; — 
sting, honey. 

2. Vegetable, &>c. — Oak, palm-tree, pine, mulberry, myr- 

tle, briars, willows ; — tree, wood, logs, root, knots, 
sap ; — seed, fruit, plum, dates, grapes, flower, 
blossom, perfume, bud, ripe, bitter, poison, leaves : — 
wheat, corn, cockle, straw, rose, pepper, onion, 
rushes, reeds, nettles, weeds ; — wine, sugar, cake. 

3. Mineral, &*c. — 1. Gold, silver, earth, mountain, vale, 

meadow, soil, stones, dust ; — substance, weight ; — 
2. Sea, waves, billows, tide, current, flood, brook, 
shallows ; — 3. Rain, showers : — ice, snow. 

4. Astronomical, meteorological, &c. — Sun, lustre, light, 

heaven, sky, space, clouds, vapour, lightning; — 
seasons, autumn, day, noon, night, evening, dark- 
ness, years; — music, singing, echo; — fire, smoke, 
shadows, lightning, storm, wind, whirlwind, slip- 
pery, spirit. 

After we have duly examined poetical com- 
positions in the same manner as the foregoing 
analysis exhibits, we shall then be better prepared 
than at present to show the advantages of this 
mode of tracing the influences of external nature 
to their true sources, and their consequent ope- 
rations on our mental faculties. 



I I 2 NATURE-STUDY. 



Chapter V. 

Descriptive poetry in its first division, as applied to single 
objects and features ; mere naming or cataloguing cen- 
sured ; attempt to portray Nature through Art ; design of 
the examples of poetical practice in description ; Celes- 
tial and Terrestrial Nature illustrated by poetical selec- 
tions. 

In so far as the realm of Nature is concerned, 
that class of poetry termed Descriptive has been 
more extensively, and more successfully cultivated 
than any other. Not only do we find delinea- 
tions of natural objects and scenery in many 
distinct passages, — they are likewise interwoven 
into all other classes of poetical composition. 
Heaven and earth are ransacked for the tangible 
or the immaterial, or both ; here the sun, moon, 
light, and shade ; there blossoms, flowers, and 
fruits, with endless sketches of the varied pro- 
ducts, phases, and phenomena of the natural 
world. 

For convenience we shall consider that part of 
our theme now under review, under two heads, 
ist, Simple description; 2nd, Compound descrip- 
tion : the first presenting, as it were, the poet's 
sketch-book of isolated natural objects or facts ; 
the other furnishing more general views of the 
external world, constituting a comprehensive 
picture of external Nature. 



THE DRY STYLE. 



"3 



As noticed in Chapter I., the early Italian 
poets employed only very general imagery ; as, 
sun, moon, flowers, &c, a mere cataloguing 
of objects, a method common in the practice of 
most of the ancient as well as many modern poets. 
In the poem of Universal Beauty^ by Henry 
Brooke, a folio published in 1735, we find the 
frequent recurrence of such lines as : — 

Delicious regions S plants, woods, waters, glades, 
Grottos, arbours, flow'rets, downs 4 and rural shades, 
The brooks, that sportive wind the echoing hills, 
The pearly founts, smooth lakes, and murmuring rills. 

This cold, dry style excited Wordsworth's 
severest censures ; he found it in Dryden's 
effusions, and condemned it alike in that great 
writer, and in all poets of the same school. Yet 
even this unimpassioned strain is not, perhaps, so 
hostile to improvement as the tendency to look 
from Art up to Nature. Drayton describes : — 

Those cliffs whose craggy sides are clad 
With trees of sundry suits, 

And fruit-trees which were : — 

Like gorgeous hangings on the wall 
Of some rich princely room. 

All very much after the fashion of dramatic 
haberdashery. 

Pope, notwithstanding the many traits of 
excellence that distinguish his poems, has fre- 
quently been charged with a tendency to be 
artificial when it was undoubtedly his intention 
to be strictly natural. Moir has truthfully enough 
expressed his opinion that : ' From the windows 
of the house we have a glimpse of Nature 
indeed ; but it consists of shaven lawns and 

1 



114 NATURE-STUDY. 

clipped hedges, and diamonded parterres, beyond 
which are parks ' remarkable only for c tame 
deer, artificial cascades, and Chinese bridges.' 
The following lines from Windsor Forest 
have all the flatness, stiffness, and artificiality of 
dramatic scenery: — 

Thy forest, Windsor, and thy green retreats, 

* * * * * 

Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, 
Here earth and water seem to strive again ; 
Not chaos-like, together crush'd and bruised, 
But, as the world, harmoniously confused ; 
Where order in variety we see, 
And where, though all things differ, all agree. 
Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display, 

* * * * *■ 

There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades, 
Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades. 
Here in full light the russet plains extend ; 
There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills ascend. 

And midst the desert fruitful fields arise, 

That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn, 

Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn. 

Here blushing Flora paints the enamelled ground, 
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, 

When frosts have whitened all the naked groves ; 
Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade, 
And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. 

With reference to the extracts given in the 
present and succeeding chapters, it may be as 
well to observe generally here that, numerous as 
the illustrations must appear on a first examina- 
tion, they will not be found excessive when the 
number of authors, and the variety offered by 
the subject itself is borne in mind. Besides, the 
very novelty of the subject renders it the more 
necessary in this first laying down of a new 



POETICAL TREATMENT. I I 5 

system, to bring forward even to overflowing, 
such evidence as may best serve to demonstrate 
its truthfulness. Every poet has his own par- 
ticular mode of treatment, just as Darwin was 
unlike Shakspeare, and Thomson unlike Darwin. 
A system deduced from limited evidence might 
be expected to be overthrown, were examination 
pushed a little farther. Again, an author may 
easily make straggling evidence bend to uphold 
an unsound theory ; but in a mass of evidence 
as ' in a multitude of counsellors ' there is safety. 
We may farther urge, that in order to obtain a 
fair view of the poetical descriptions of Nature, 
we must quote the poet's utterances, with respect 
not only to the firmament, but also to the 
universe at large, and all its constituent portions ; 
inasmuch as — 

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; 

And, as imagination bodies forth 

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation, and a name. 

The poet's powers, however, may be considered 
as commencing with visible forms : and with 
such Nature- Study must also commence. For 
that purpose the following selection is presented, 
to show modes of treatment, and not simply as 
' elegant extracts.' Many of the verses would but 
indifferently serve the latter purpose, while for the 
object intended they are appropriate, representing 
as they do a class of poets, and not a selection 
of subjects. For instance, in reading the w T orks 
of Shakspeare or Milton, of Thomson or 
Wordsworth, we may take opposite passages as 

1 2 



I 1 6 NATURE-STUDY. 

we meet with them, albeit livelier or better 
descriptions of the particular objects noted might 
be met with elsewhere. Our object is not to 
discover which poet best describes the sun, the 
moon, or other special objects in creation. It 
suffices that some poet of eminence has touched 
on the selected subject, and the reader must judge 
of the poet's rendering of the matter. That 
which Dr. Johnson performed in illustrating 
our language, we would humbly endeavour to 
accomplish in our exhibition of the word- 
painting of the poets as applied to Nature. 

The selections that follow may, for facility 
of reference, be arranged under two divisions — 
ist, Celestial; the heavens and all belonging 
thereto ; 2nd, Terrestrial ; the earth, and all 
mundane things. 

Celestial. 

Sun, &c. — 

1. But when the sun was set, and shades of night 
O'erspread the sky, 

* * * * 

And when the rosy-fingered morn appeared. b. i. 

2. Now morn in saffron-robe the earth o'erspread. 

b. viii. 

3. Now morn in saffron robe, from the ocean stream 
Ascending, light diffused o'er Gods and men. b. xix. 

4. And so the sun and moon seem fixt above, 
Yet sure experience tells us they must move. 

5. The sun from sea to sailors seems to rise 
And set, for they see only seas and skies. 

6. As when the sun begins his early race, 

And views the joyful earth with blushing face, 



No. 1, 2, 3. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, 1867. 4, 5, 6. 
Creech's Lucretius, b. iv. v. 



SUN. ETC. 



II 7 



And quaffs the pearly dew spread o'er the grass, 
From earth he draws some mists with busy beams, 
From wandring waters some, and running streams : 
These thin, these subtle mists, when rais'd on high, 
And join'd above, spread clouds o'er all the sky : 

7. Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd, 
That covers, with the most exalted point 
Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls, 
And night, that opposite to him her orb 
Rounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth, 
Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp'd 
When she reigns highest : so that where I was, 
Aurora's white and vermeil-tinctur'd cheek 

To orange turn'd as she in age increas'd. 

8. Rise betimes, while th' opal-colour'd morn 
In golden pomp doth May-day's doors adorn. 

9. O'er the wide earth yon torch of heavenly light 
Its splendour spreads, 

* * * * 

O, if a mortal's power could stretch so high, 

* ^ * 

There waves of fire 'gainst waves of fire are dashing, 
And know no bounds ; there hurricanes of flame, 
As if in everlasting combat flashing, 
Roar with a fury which no time can tame : 
There molten mountains boil like ocean -waves, 
And rain in burning streams the welkin laves. 

10. But rays of light, 
Now suddenly, diverging from the orb, 
Retired behind the mountain tops, or, veiled 
By the dense air, shot upwards to the crown 
Of the blue firmament — aloft — and wide : 
And multitudes of little floating clouds, 

Ere we, who saw, of change were conscious, pierced 
Through their etherial texture, had become 
Vivid as fire, — clouds separately poised, 
Innumerable multitude of forms 
Scattered through half the circle of the sky ; 
And giving back, and shedding each on each, 
With prodigal communion, the bright hues 
Which from the unapparent fount of glory 

7. Cary's Dante (Purgatory), c. ii. 8. Sylvester's Du 
Bartas. 9. Bowring's Russian Poets. (Lomonossov), 1821. 
10. Wordsworth, The Excursion. 



i8 



NATURE-STUDY. 



They had imbibed, and ceased not to receive. 
That which the heavens displayed the liquid deep 
Repeated, but with unity sublime. 

ii. At the root 

Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare 
And slender stem, while here I sit at eve, 
Oft stretches tow'rds me, like a long straight path, 
Traced faintly on the greensward. 

Morning. — 

i. The hour was morning's prime, and on his way 
Aloft the sun ascended with those stars, 
That with him rose, when Love divine first mov'd 
Those its fair works : — c. i. 

2. In the year's early nonage, when the sun 
Tempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn, 

And now towards equal day the nights recede, 

Whenas the rime upon the earth puts on 

Her dazzling sister's image, but not long 

Her milder sway endures, then riseth up 

The village hind, — c. xxiv. 

3. Now the golden morn aloft 

Waves her dew-bespangled wing, 
With vermeil cheek, and whisper soft 
She woos the tardy spring : 

4. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, 
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire 

Mirth and youth and warm desire ; 

Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee with our early song, 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 

Evening. — 

5. Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er 
Hast, on a mountain top, been ta'en by cloud, 
Through which thou saw'st no better than the mole 
Doth through opacous membrane ; then, whene'er 
The wat'ry vapours dense began to melt 

Into thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere 

11. The Excursion , b. vi. 1, 2. Gary's Dante {Hell.) 
3. Gray's Ode, Vicissitude. 4. Milton's May Morning. 
5. Cary's Dante (Purgatory.) 



NIGHT. 



II 9 



Seem'd wading through them ; so thy nimble thought 
May image, how at first I re-beheld 
The sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung. 

c. xvii. 
Night. — 

6. The moon well-nigh 

To midnight hour belated, made the stars 
Appear to wink and fade ; and her broad disk 
Seem'd like a crag on fire, as up the vault 

That course she journey'd, which the sun then warms, 
When they of Rome behold him at his set. 

7. It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need 
To walk uncrippled : for the sun had now 

To Taurus the meridian circle left, 
And to the Scorpion left the night. As one 
That makes no pause, but presses on his road, 
Whate'er betide him, if some urgent need 
Impel : so enter'd we upon our way. 

8. All night they [the Trojans] camped; and frequent 

blazed their fires. 
As when in Heaven, around the glittering moon 
The stars shine bright amid the breathless air ; 
And every crag, and every jutting peak 630 

Stands boldly forth, and every forest glade ; 
Even to the gates of Heaven is opened wide 
The boundless sky; shines each particular star 
Distinct ; joy fills the gazing shepherd's heart. 
So bright, so thickly scattered o'er the plain, 635 

Before the walls of Troy, between the ships 
And Xanthus' stream, the Trojan watch-fires blazed. 

9. And shadows seem to move, to turn, and stay 
As bodies do, and servilely obey : 

* * * * * 

(For shadow is no more, a sudden night,) 

* . * * * * 

And rays as soon come on, and chace the night : 
The Negro-darkness washt becomes a white. 

10. In such a night, when every louder wind 
Is to its distant cavern safe confined ; 
And only gentle Zephyr fans his wings, 



6, 7. Gary's Dante {Purgatory), c. xviii. xxiv. 8. Lord 
Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. viii. 9. Creech's Lucretius. 
10. Countess of Winchelsea's Nocturnal Reverie. 



120 NATURE-STUDY. 

And lonely Philomel still waking sings ; 

Or from some tree, famed for the owl's delight, 

She, hollowing clear, directs the wanderer right : 

In such a night, when passing clouds give place, 

Or thinly veil the heaven's mysterious face ; 

When in some river, overhung with green, 

The waning moon and trembling leaves are seen ; 

When freshen'd grass now bears itself upright, 

And makes cool banks to pleasing rest invite, 

Whence springs the woodbine, and the bramble-rose, 

And where the sleepy cowslip shelter'd grows ; 

Whilst now a paler hue the foxglove takes, 

Yet chequers still with red the dusky brakes ; 

When scatter'd glow-worms, but in twilight fine, 

Show trivial beauties watch their hour to shine ; 

Whilst Salisb'ry stands the test of every light, 

In perfect charms and perfect virtue bright : 

When odours which declined repelling day, 

Through temperate air uninterrupted stray ; 

When darken'd groves their softest shadows wear, 

And falling waters we distinctly hear; 

When through the gloom more venerable shows 

Some ancient fabric, awful in repose ; 

While sun-burnt hills their swarthy looks conceal, 

And swelling haycocks thicken up the vale : 

When the loosed horse now, as his pasture leads, 

Comes slowly grazing through th' adjoining meads, 

Whose stealing pace and lengthen'd shade we fear, 

Till torn-up forage in his teeth we hear ; 

When nibbling sheep at large pursue their food, 

And unmolested kine rechew the cud ; 

When curlews cry beneath the village-walls, 

And to her straggling brood the partridge calls ; 

Their short-lived jubilee the creatures keep, 

Which but endures whilst tyrant man doth sleep ; 

When a sedate content the spirit feels, 

And no fierce light disturbs, whilst it reveals ; 

But silent musings urge the mind to seek 

Something too high for syllables to speak ; 

Till the free soul to a composedness charm'd, 

Finding the elements of rage disarm'd, 

O'er all below a solemn quiet grown, 

Joys in the inferior world and think it like her own : 

In such a night let me abroad remain, 

Till morning breaks, and all's confused again ; 

Our cares, our toils, our clamours are renew'd, 

Or pleasures, seldom reach'd, again pursued. 



NIGHT. I 2 I 

Night. — 

i. Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 

In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 

2. Heaven's ebon vault, 



Studded with stars, unutterably bright, 

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, 

Seems like a canopy which love had spread 

To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, 

Robed in a garment of untrodden snow ; 

Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, 

So stainless, that their white and glittering spires 

Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; * * 

all form a scene 

Where musing solitude might love to lift 
Her soul above the sphere of earthliness ; 
Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, 
So cold, so bright, so still. 

3. The night was fair, and countless stars 
Studded heaven's dark blue vault, — 

Just o'er the eastern wave 
Peeped the first faint smiles of morn : — 

4. The moon among the clouds rose high, 
And all the city hum was by. 

Upon the street, where late before 
Did din of war and warriors roar, 

You might have heard a pebble fall, 
A beetle hum, a cricket sing, 
An owlet flap his boding wing 

On Giles's steeple tall. 

5. It was a night of lovely June, 

High rode in cloudless blue the moon, 

Demayet smiled beneath her ray ; 
Old Stirling's towers arose in light, 
And, twined in links of silver bright. 

Her winding river lay. 
Ah ! gentle planet ! other sight 
Shall greet thee next returning night, 
Of broken arms and banners tore, 
And marshes dark with human gore, 

1. Young's Night Thoughts. 2, 3. Shelley's Queen Mab. 
4. Scott's Marmion, c. v. 5. Scott's Lord of the Isles, 
c. vi. 



I 2 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

And piles of slaughtered men and horse, 
And Forth that floats the frequent corse, 
And many a wounded wretch to plain 
Beneath thy silver light in vain ! 
Spring. — 

i. Blind, wretched man ! in what dark paths of strife 

We walk this little journey of our life ! 

* * . * * * 

Yet underneath a loving myrtle's shade, 
Just by a purling" stream supinely laid, 
When spring with gaudy flowers the earth had spread, 
And sweetest roses grow around our head, 
Envied by wealth and power, with small expense 
We may enjoy the sweet delights of sense, b. ii. 

2. The soote season, that bud and bloome forth brings, 
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale. 
The nightingale with feathers new she sings ; 

The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. 

Summer is come, for every spray now springs. 

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; 

The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; 

The fishes fleet with new repaired scale ; 

The adder all her slough away she flings ; 

The swift swallow pursueth the flies small; 

The busy bee her honey now she mingles ; 

Winter is worn that was the flower's bale. 
And thus I see among these pleasant things 
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. 

3. When daisies pied, and violets blue, 

And lady-smocks all silver-white, 
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, 

Do paint the meadows with delight. 

4. In April's gilded morn when south winds blow, 
And gently shake the hawthorn's silver crown, 
Wafting its scent the forest glade adown, 

The dewy shelter of the bounding doe, 
Then, under trees, soft tufts of primrose show 
Their paley-yellowing flower ; to the moist sun 
Blue harebells peep, while cowslips stand unblown, 
Plighted to riper May ; and lavish flow, 
The lark's loud carols in the wilds of air. 
O ! not to Nature's glad enthusiast cling 

1. Creech's Lucretius. 2. Henry Howard, Earl of 
Surrey. 3. Love's Labour Lost, act v. sc. 2. 4. Anna 
Seward. 



SPRING, ETC. I23 

Avarice and pride. Through her now blooming 

sphere 
Charmed as he roves, his thoughts enraptured spring 
To Him, who gives frail man's appointed time 
These cheering hours of promise and of prime. 

5. Come May, with all thy flowers, 

Thy sweetly scented thorn, 
Thy cooling ev'ning showers, 

Thy fragrant breath at morn. 
When May-flies haunt the willow, 

When May-buds tempt the bee, 
Then o'er the shining billow 

My love will come to me. 

6. In the sweet spring-days, 

With whitening hedges, and uncrumpling fern, 

And blue-bells trembling by the forest-ways, 
And scent of hay new-mown. 

Summer. — 

1. In summer when the shawes be shene, 

And leaves be large and long, 
It is fully merry in fair forest 

To hear the fowle's song ; 
To see the deer draw to the dale, 

And leave the hilles hee, [high] 
And shadow them in the leves green, 

Under the greenwood tree. 

2. In summer, when the leaves spring, 

The blossoms on every bough, 
So merry do the birdes sing, 
In woodys merry now. 

3. The gentle zephyrs are blowing, 

The graceful willows tremble, 
The rivulets all are flowing, 

The birds to their songs assemble. 
The torrents of the mountain 

Glide gently through the vale, 
And the music of the fountain 

Makes a concert with the gale. 
The bees have left their dwelling, 

To gather their honied stores ; 
List to their anthems swelling, 

Around the bending flowers ! 

5. Moore's Irish Melodies. 6. M. Arnold's Poem, 
Thyrsis. 1,2. Bell's Early Ballads. 3. Bowring's Poetry, 
&c. of Spain. 



1 24 NATURE-STUDY. 



The early sobbing of the morn, 
* * * 



there crept 



A little noiseless noise among the leaves, 
Born of the very sigh that silence heaves ; 
For not the faintest motion could be seen 
Of all the shades that slanted o'er the green. 

* * * * 

A filbert-hedge with wild-briar overtwined, 
And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind 
Upon their summer thrones : — 

5. 'Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high ; 
Southward the landscape indistinctly glared 
Through a pale steam ; but all the northern downs, 
In clearest air ascending, showed far off 

A surface dappled o'er with shadows flung 
From many a brooding cloud, far as the sight 
Could reach, those many shadows lay in spots 
Determined and unmoved, with steady beams 
Of bright and pleasant sunshine interposed; b. i. 

6. Full Nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 
Of animals, or atoms organised. 

7. Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets, hail ! 
Ye lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! 

Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep ! 
Delicious is your shelter to the soul, * * * 

the midnight depth 

Of yonder grove, of wildest, largest growth. 

8. Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves ; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 

With the deep orange, glowing through the green, 
Their lighter glories blend. 

9. But see the tall elm shadows reach 

Athwart the field, the rooks fly home, 
The light streams gorgeous up the o'erarching beech ; 

With the calm hour, soft weary fancies come. 
In heaven the low red harvest moon, 

The glowworm on the dewy ground, 
Will light us home, with our glad burden song ; 

Grave be our evening prayers, our slumbers sound. 



4. Keats' Poems. 5. The Excursion. 6, 7, 8. Thomson's 
Seasons, 9. Keble's Lyra Innocentium. 



AUTUMN. 1 25 

Autumn. — 

1. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! 

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; 
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 

With fruit the vines that round the thatch eaves run ; 
To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees, 

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; 
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 

With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, 
And still more, later flowers for the bees, 
Until they think warm days will never cease, 

For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells. 

# * * # 

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; 

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
Among the river sallows, borne aloft 

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ; 

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; 
Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft 
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, 

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. 

2. Through Alpine meadows soft suffused 

With rain, where thick the crocus blows, 
Past the dark forges long disused, 
The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes. 

* * * * 

The autumnal evening darkens round, 
The wind is up, and drives the rain ; 
While hark ! far down, with strangled sound 
Doth the Dead Guiers' stream complain, 
Where that wet smoke among the woods 
Over his boiling cauldron broods. 

3. Autumn departs — but still his mantle's fold 
Rests on the groves of noble Somerville ; 
Beneath a shroud of russet dropp'd with gold, 
Tweed and his tributaries mingle still ; 
Hoarser the wind, and deeper sounds the rill, 
Yet lingering notes of silvan music swell, 

The deep-toned cushat, and the redbreast shrill ; 
And yet some tints of summer splendour tell 
When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's western 
fell. 

1. Keats' Autumn. 2. M. Arnold's Stanzas. From the 
Grande Chartreuse. 3. Lord of the Isles, c. i.~ 



I 2 6 NATURE-STUDY. 

Autumn departs — from Gala's fields no more 
Come rural sounds, our kindred banks to cheer ; 
Blent with the stream, and gale that wafts it o'er, 
No more the distant reaper's mirth we hear. 
The last blithe shout hath died upon our ear, 
And harvest-home hath hush'd the clanging wain, 
On the waste hill no forms of life appear, 
Save where, sad laggard of the autumnal train, 
Some age-struck wanderer gleans few ears of scat- 
ter'd grain. 

Winter. — 

4. an envious sneaping [nipping] frost, 

That bites the first-born infants of the spring. 

5. At evening a keen eastern breeze arose, 
And the descending rain unsullied froze. 
Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, 
The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view 
The face of nature in a rich disguise, 

And brighten'd every object to my eyes ; 

For every shrub, and every blade of grass, 

And every pointed thorn, seem'd wrought in glass : 

In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, 

While through the ice the crimson berries glow. 

The thick-sprung reeds which watery marshes yield, 

Seem'd polished lances* in a hostile field. 

The stag, in limpid currents, with surprise, 

Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise : 

The spreading oak, the beech, the towering pine, 

Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine. 

6. The wintry west extends his blast, 

And hail and rain does blaw ; 
Or the stormy north sends driving forth 

The blinding sleet and snaw ; 
While tumbling brown, the burn comes down, 

And roars frae bank to brae ; 
And bird and beast in covert rest, 

And pass the heartless day. 

7. November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 

The short'ning winter day is near a close ; 

4. Love's Labour Lost. 5. A. Philips, Epistle from 
Copenhagen, 1709. 6. Burns' Winter. 7. The Cotter s 
Saturday Night. 

* See Southey's notes, quoted at page 75, No. 49. 



CLOUDS, ETC. 127 

The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh, 
The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose ; 

Clouds. — 

i. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish ; 
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, 
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, 
And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these 

signs ; 
They are black vesper's pageants. 

2 yon fibrous cloud, 

That catches but the palest tinge of even, 
And which the straining eye can hardly seize 
When melting into eastern twilight's shadow, 
Were scarce so thin, so slight; 

3. Underneath the young grey dawn 
A multitude of dense, white fleecy clouds, 

Were wandering in thick flocks along the mountains, 
Shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind. 

4. The chasm of sky above my head 

Is Heaven's profoundest azure. No domain 

For fickle, short-lived clouds to occupy, 

Or to pass through ; — but rather an abyss 

In which the everlasting stars abide, 

And whose soft gloom and boundless depth might 

tempt 
The curious eye to look for them by day. 

Sound. — 

5. Hark! whence that rushing sound ? 

* * * * 

'Tis softer than the west wind's sigh ; 
'Tis milder than the unmeasured notes 
Of that strange lyre whose strings 
The genii of the breezes sweep : 

6. And listens to a heavy sound, 
That moans the mossy turrets round. 
Is it the roar of Teviot's tide, 

That chafes against the scaur's red side ? 
Is it the wind that swings the oaks ? 
Is it the echo from the rocks ? 



1. Antony and Cleopatra. 2, 3, 5. Shelley's Poems. 4. 
The Excursion, b. ii. 6. Lay of the Last Minstrel, c. i. 



1 2 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

What may it be, the heavy sound, 

That moans old Branksome's turrets round ? 

Thunder. — 

7. Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, 
Roll o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar 
Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; 
Tempest unfolds its pinion o'er the gloom 

That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend, 
With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey ; 
The torn deep yawns, — the vessel finds a grave 
Beneath the jagged gulph. 

8. Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head 
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has roll'd, • 
How, when its echoes fell, a silence dead 

Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold ? 
The rye-grass shakes not on the sod-built fold, 
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still, 
The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold, 
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill, 
The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning 
hill. 

Rainbow. — 

9. Those lines of rainbow light 

Are like the moonbeams when they fall 
Through some cathedral window. 

10. The earth to thee her incense yields, 

The lark thy welcome sings, 
When, glittering in the freshened fields, 
The snowy mushroom springs. 

How glorious is thy girdle cast, 
O'er mountain, tower, and town, 

Or mirrored in the ocean vast, 
A thousand fathoms down. 



Terrestrial. 

Scenery. — 

1. Now I gain the mountain's brow, 

What a landscape lies below ! 
No clouds, no vapours intervene ; 
But the gay, the open scene, 



7, 9. Shelley's Poems. 8. Scott's Lord of the Isles, c. 3. 
10. Campbell, The Rainbow. 1. Dyer's Grongar Hill. 



SCENERY, ETC. I 29 

Does the face of nature show, 
In all the hues of heaven's bow ; 
And, swelling to embrace the light, 
Spreads around beneath the sight. 

2. There, where the swift Rhone's waters flow 

Its verdant banks between ; 
Where fragrant myrtles bending grow, 

And Rhone reflects their green ; 
There, where the vineyards deck the hills, 

And o'er the valleys spread, 
Which golden citrons' fragrance fills, 

And plantains rear their head. 

3. The sun is warm, the sky is clear, 
The waves are dancing fast and bright, 
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear 
The purple noon's transparent light : 
The breath of the moist air is light 
Around its unexpanded buds ; 

Like many a voice of one delight — 

The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods' — 

soft like Solitude's. 

I see the Deep's untrampled floor 
With green and purple sea-weeds strown ; 
I see the waves upon the shore 
Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown : 
I sit upon the sands alone ; 
The lightning of the moon-tide ocean 
Is flashing round me, and a tone 
Arises from its measured motion — 
How sweet ! did any heart now share in my emotion. 

4. On the mountain dawns the day ; 

# * * • 

The mist hath left the mountain gray, 
Springlets in the dawn are streaming, 
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, 
And foresters have busy been 
To track the buck in thicket green. 

Island. — 

5. This happy breed of men, this little world ; 



2. Bowring's Russian Poets (Batiushkov). 3. Shelley's 
Stanzas, Naples. 4. Scott's Hunting Song. 5. King 
Richard II. 

K 



I 3 O NATURE-STUDY. 

This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
Which serves it in the office of a wall, 

* # * 

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, 

* * * 

England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
Of wat'ry Neptune. — 

6. that pale, that white-fac'd shore, 

Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, 
And coops from other lands her islanders, 
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, 
That water-walled bulwark, still secure. 

Sea Coast. — 

7. Lo ! where the heath, with withering brake grown o'er, 
Lends the light turf that warms the neighbouring 

poor; 
From thence a length of burning sand appears, 
Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears ; 
Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, 
Reign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye : 
There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, 
And to the rugged infant threaten war ; 
There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil ; 
There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; 
Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, 
The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf; 
O'er the young shoot, the charlock throws a shade, 
And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade ; 
With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, 
And a sad splendour vainly shines around. 

8 The murmuring surge, 

That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes. 

9. Sweet is the night air ! 

Only, from the long line of spray 
Where the ebb meets the moon-blanch'd sand, 
Listen ! you hear the grating roar 
Of pebbles which the waves suck back, and fling, 
At their return, up the high strand, 
Begin and cease, and then again begin, 



6. King John. 7. Crabbe, The Village. 8. King Lear. 
9. Arnold's Poems, Dover Beach. 



WASTES, ETC. 131 

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 
The eternal note of sadness in. 

Wastes. — 

10. A barren detested vale, you see, it is : 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
O'ercome with moss, and baleful mistletoe. 
Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds, 
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 

11. 'Mid stormy vapours ever driving by, 
Where ospreys, cormorants, and herons cry ; 
Where hardly given the hopeless waste to cheer, 
Denied the bread of life the foodful ear, 
Dwindles the pear on autumn's latest spra}', 
And apple sickens pale in summer's ray ; 

Mountains. — 

1. But when a mountain's foot I reach'd, where clos'd 
The valley, that had pierc'd my heart with dread, 

I look'd aloft, and saw their shoulders broad 

Already vested with that planet's beam, 

Who leads all wanderers safe through every way. 

2. The place where to descend the precipice 
We came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge 
Such object lay, as every eye would shun. 

As is that ruin, which Adice's stream 
On this side Trento struck, should'ring the wave, 
Or loos'd by earthquake or for lack of prop ; 
For from the mountain's summit, whence it mov'd 
To the low level, so the headlong rock 
Is shiver'd, that some passage it might give 
To him who from above would pass : e'en such 
Into the chasm was the descent : — 

3. As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds 
Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread 
Heaven's cheerful face, the low'ring element 
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow, or show'r ; 
If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet 
Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive, 

The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 

4. Sees Caledonia, in romantic view : 

Her airy mountains, from the waving main 

10. Titus Andronicus. 11. Wordsworth. (See Bio- 
graphia Literaria, chap, iv.) 1. Gary's Dante (Hell), c. i. 
2. Ibid., c. xii. 3. Paradise Lost, b. ii. 4. The Seasons. 

K 2 



1 3 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

Invested with a keen diffusive sky, 

1 her forests huge, 

Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand 
Planted of old ; her azure lakes between, 
Poured out extensive 4 and of watery wealth 
Full ; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales, 
With many a cool translucent brimming flood 
Washed lovely, from the Tweed 

5. The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides, 
The woods, wild-scatter'd, clothe their ample sides ; 
Th' outstretching lake, embosom'd 'mong the hills, 
The eye with wonder and amazement fills ; 

* # * * 

The lawns, wood-fringed in Nature's native taste ; 
The hillocks, dropped in Nature's careless haste ; 
The arches, striding o'er the new-born stream; 
The village, glittering in the moontide beam 

6. The rival of the Andes, whose dark brow 

Lowered o'er the silver sea. 
* * * 

far below 

Calm as a slumbering babe, 
Tremendous Ocean lay, 
The mirror of its stillness showed 
The pale and waning stars, 

7. The broad-breasted rock 
Glasses his rugged forehead in the sea. 

8. I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, 

Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty 
and wide ; 
All was still, save by fits when the eagle was yelling, 

And starting around me the echoes replied. 
On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was 

bending, 
And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, 
One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, 
When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer 
had died. 



5. Burns, Lines written at Kenmore, Taymouth. 6. Queen 
Mob. 7. S. T. Coleridge, Fragments. 8. Scott, Death of 
Dr. Gough. 



MOUNTAINS, ETC. I 33 

g. The cliffs that rear their haughty head 
High o'er the river's darksome bed, 
Were now all naked, wild, and grey, 
Now waving all with greenwood spray ; 
Here trees to every crevice clung, 
And o'er the dell their branches hung ; 
And there, all splinter'd and uneven, 
The shiver'd rocks, ascend to heaven ; 
Oft, too, the ivy swathed their breast, 
And wreathed its garland round their crest, 
Or from the spires bade loosely flare 
Its tendrils in the middle air. 
As pennons wont to wave of old 

O'er the high feast of Baron bold, 

* * * # 

Such and more wild is Greta's roar, 
And such the echoes from her shore. 

Rocks and Caves. — 

10. Nature's most secret steps 

He [the poet] like her shadow, has pursued, where'er 

The red volcano over-canopies 

Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice 

With burning smoke ; or where bitumen lakes, 

On black bare-pointed islets ever beat 

With sluggish surge ; or, where the secret caves 

Rugged and dark, winding among the springs 

Of fire and poison, inaccessible 

To avarice or pride, their starry domes 

Of diamond and gold expand above 

Numberless and immeasurable halls 

Frequent with crystal column, and clear shines 

Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite. 

Rivers. — 

i. How am I pleased to search the hills and woods 
For rising springs and celebrated floods ! 
To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course, 
And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his source, 
To see the Mincio draw his watery store, 
Through the long windings of a fruitful shore, 
And hoary Albula's infected tide 
O'er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide. 



9. Rokeby, c. ii. 10. Shelley's Alastor. 1. Addison's 
Letter from Italy . 



1 34 NATURE-STUDY. 

i. The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown T d ; 
The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd; 
Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave ; 
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave ; 
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears ; 
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears ; 
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood ; 
And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood, 

2. Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain 
Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er, 
Conducts the eye along his sinuous course 
Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, 
Stand, never overlooked, our favourite elms, 
That screen the herdsman's solitary hut ; 
While far beyond, and overthwart the stream 
That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, 
The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; 
Displaying on its varied side the grace 
Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, 
Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells 
Just undulates upon the listening ear, 
Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 

4. Amang the bonnie, winding banks, 

Where Doon rins, wimplin', [meandering] clear, 
* * * * 

Whiles [sometimes] owre a linn the burnie plays, 

As through the glen it wimpl't ; 
Whiles round a rocky scaur [cliff] it strays ; 

Whiles in a wiel [eddy] it dimpl't ; 
Whiles glitterin to the nightly rays, 

Wi' bickerin', [staggering] dancin' dazzle ; 
Whiles cookit [hidden] underneath the braes, 

Below the spreading hazel, 
Unseen that night. 

5. Come Lucy ! while 'tis morning hour, 

The woodland brook we needs must pass ; 
So, ere the sun assume his power. 
We shelter in our poplar bower, 
Where dew lies long upon the flower, 

Though vanish'd from the velvet grass. 
Curbing the stream, this stony ridge 
May serve us for a silvan bridge ; 

2. Windsor Forest. 3. Cowper's Task, b. i. 4. Burns' 
Halloween. 5. Scott's Bridal of Triermain. 



RIVERS, ETC. I35 

For here compell'd to disunite, 

Round petty isles the runnels glide, 
And chafing off their puny spite, 
The shallow murmurs waste their might, 
Yielding to footstep free and light 
A dry-shod pass from side to side. 

6. River ! that in silence windest 

Throughfthe meadows, bright and free, 
Till at length thy rest thou findest 
In the bosom of the sea ! 

Bower. — 

7. The thick young grass arose in fresher green : 
The mound was newly made, no sight could pass 
Betwixt the nice partitions of the grass, 

The well-united sods so closely lay, 
And all around the shades defended it from day ; 
For sycamores with eglantine were spread, 
A hedge about the sides, a covering over-head. 
And so the fragrant brier was wove between, 
The sycamore and flowers were mix'd with green, 
That nature seem'd to vary the delight, 
And satisfied at once the smell and sight. 

* * *• 

And the fresh eglantine exhaled a breath, 
Whose odours were of power to raise from death. 

* sj« ^ ^c 

Thus as I mused, I cast aside my eye, 

And saw a medlar-tree was planted nigh ; 

The spreading branches made a goodly show, 

And full of opening blooms was every bough ; 

A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride 

Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from side to side, 

Still pecking as she pass'd, and still she drew 

The sweets from every flower, and suck'd the dew ; 

Sufficed at length, she warbled in her throat, 

And tuned her voice to many a merry note, 

But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear, 

Yet such as sooth'd my soul, and pleased my ear. 

8. On beds of daisies idly laid, 

The willow waving o'er my head, 
Now morning, on the bending stem, 
Hangs the round and glittering gem, 

6. Longfellow's River Charles. 7. Dryden's Flower and 
the Leaf. 8. Dr. T. Warton's Retirement. 



i 3 6 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Lull'd by the lapse of yonder spring, 
Of nature's various charms I sing : 



the roof 



Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, 

Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew 

Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side 

Acanthus and each odorous bushy shrub 

Fenc'd up the verdant wall, each beauteous flow'r, 

Iris all hues, roses, and jessamin 

Rear'd high, their flourish'd heads between, and wrought 

Mosaic ; under foot the violet, 

Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay 

Border'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone 

Of costliest emblem: other creatures here, 

Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none ; 

Such was their awe of man.- 

10. The laverock whistled from the cloud ; 
The stream was lively, but not loud ; 
From the white thorn the May-flower shed ; 
Its dewy fragrance round our head : 
Not Ariel lived more merrily 
Under the blossom'd bough than we. 

Garden. — 

i. I love the garden wild and wide, 

Where oaks have plum-trees by their side, 

Where woodbines and twisting vine 

Clip round the pear-tree and the pine ; 

Where mixt jonquils and gowans [daisies] grow, 

And roses midst rank clover blow, 

Upon a bank of a clear strand, 

Its wimplings led by nature's hand ; 

Though docks and brambles, here and there, 

May sometimes cheat the gard'ner's care, 

Yet this to me's a paradise, 

Compared to prim cut plots' and nice, 

Where nature has to art resign'd, 

And all looks stiff, mean, and confined. 

2. It was a plot 

Of garden ground run wild, its matted weeds 

Marked with the steps of those, whom, as they passed, 

The gooseberry trees that shot in long lank slips, 



9. Paradise Lost, b. iv. 10. Marmion. 1. Allan Ram- 
say's Epistles. 2. The Excursion. 



GARDENS, ETC. I 37 

Or currants, hanging from their leafless stems, 
In scanty strings, had tempted to o'erleap 
The broken wall. I, * * * 

Where two tall hedge-rows of thick alder boughs 
Joined in a cold damp nook, espied a well 
Shrouded with wild-flowers and plumy fern. 

3. Parks with oak and chesnut shady 

Parks and ordered gardens great. 

Husbandry. — 

4. When cheerful day begins to fade, 

* # * 

Loud bleating from the neighbouring meads, 
His flock the shepherd homeward leads ; 
And broad of brow and sleek of skin, 
Their stalls the lowing oxen win. 
High piled with sheaves of golden grain, 
Rolls swinging in the laden wain, 
The blessings of the bounteous ground 
With many-colour'd garland crown'd ; 
And labour ended, gay advance 
The youthful reapers to the dance. 

Forest Fire. — 

5. So, when the storms through Indian forests rave, 
And bend the pliant canes in curling wave. 
Grind their siliceous joints with ceaseless ire, 
Till bright emerge the ruby seeds of fire, 

A brazen light bedims the burning sky, 
And shuts each shrinking star's refulgent eye ; 
The forest roars, where crimson surges play, 
And flash through lurid night infernal day ; 
Floats far and loud the hoarse discordant yell 
Of ravening pards, which harmless crowd the dell, 
While boa-snakes, to wet savannahs trail 
Awkward a lingering lazy length of tail ; 
The barbarous tiger whets his fangs no more, 
To lap with torturing pause his victim's gore ; 
Curb'd of their rage, hysenas gaunt are tame, 
And shrink, begirt with all-devouring flame. 

Animal Creation. — 

6. The timorous hare, 

Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, 

3. Tennyson's Lord of Burleigh. 4. Lambert's Schiller's 
Lay of the Bell. 5. Dr. Leyden's Eastern Conflagration. 
6. Cowper's Animals Happy. 



I 3 8 NATURE-STUDY, 

Scarce shuns me ; and the stock-dove unalarm'd 

Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends 

His long-love ditty for my near approach. 

Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, 

That age or injury has hollowed deep, 

Where on his bed of wool and matted leaves. 

He has outslept the winter, ventures forth 

To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, 

The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play ; 

He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, 

Ascends the neighbouring beech ; where whisks his 

brush 
And perks his ears, and stamps and cries aloud 
With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, 
And anger insignificantly fierce. 

7. From the thick copse the roebucks bound, 

The startled red-deer scuds the plain, 
For the — bugle 

Has roused their mountain haunts again. 

8. Calm amid scenes of havock, in his own 
Huge strength impregnable, the elephant 
Offendeth none, but leads a quiet life 
Among his own contemporary trees, 
Till nature lays him gently down to rest 
Beneath the palm, which he was wont to make 
His prop in slumber ; there his relics lay 
Longer than life itself had dwelt within them. 

9. Amphibious monsters haunted the lagoon ; 
The Hippopotamus, amidst the flood, 
Flexile and active as the smallest swimmer; 
But on the bank, ill-balanc'd and infirm, 

He graz'd the herbage, with huge head declin'd, 

Or lean'd to rest against some ancient tree. 

The Crocodile, the dragon of the waters, 

An iron panoply, fell as the plague, 

And merciless as famine, cranch'd his prey ; 

While from his jaws, with dreadful fangs all serried, 

The life-blood dyed the waves with deadly streams. 

The Seal and the Sea-lion, from the gulf 

Came forth, and, couching with their little ones, 

Slept on the shelving rocks that girt the shore, 

Securing prompt retreat from sudden danger. 

7. Scott's Cadyow Castle. 8. Montgomery, The Ele- 
phant. 9. Ibid. Amphibious Animals. 



ANIMAL CREATION. 1 39 

The pregnant Turtle, stealing out at eve, 
With anxious eye and trembling heart, explor'd 
The loneliest coves, and in the loose warm sand 
Deposited her eggs, which the sun hatch'd : 
Hence the young brood, that never knew a parent, 
Unburrow'd and by instinct sought the sea ; 
Nature herself, with her own gentle hand, 
Dropping them one by one into the flood, 
And laughing to behold their antic joy, 
When launch'd in their maternal element. 

Pigeons. — 

1. As a wild flock of pigeons, to their food 
Collected, blade or tares, without their pride 
Accustom'd, and in still and quiet sort, 

If aught alarm them, suddenly desert 

Their meal, assail'd by more important cares. 

2. As doves 

By fond desire invited, on wide wings 

And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, 
Cleave the air, wafted by their wills along. 

Starlings. — 

3. As in large troops 

And multitudinous, when winter reigns, 

The starlings on their wings are borne abroad. 

Skylark. — 

4. Lo ! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, 
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, 
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast 
The sun ariseth in his majesty ; 

Who doth the world so gloriously behold, 
That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. 

5. The skylark warbles high 

His trembling thrilling ecstacy ; 
And lessening from the dazzled sight, 
Melts into air and liquid light. 

6. Hail to thee, blithe Spirit ! 

Bird thou never wert, 
That from heaven, or near it 
Pourest thy full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

1. Cary's Dante (Purgatory.) 2, 3. Ibid. (Hell), c. v. 
4. Shakspeare's Poems. 5. T. Gray's Poems. 6. Shelley, 
To a Skylark. 



140 NATURE-STUDY. 



In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun 
O'er which clouds are brightening, 
Thou dost float and run, 
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight ; 
Like a star of heaven 
In the broad daylight 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. 

7. Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; 
A privacy of glorious light is thine, 
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood 
Of harmony, with instinct more divine ; 
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam — 
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home ! 

8. thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees. 

In some melodious plot 

Of beechen screen, and shadows numberless, 

Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 
* * * * 

Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades 
Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 
Up the hill-side ; and now 'tis buried deep 
In the next valley-glades : 
Was it a vision, or a waking dream ? 

Fled is that music : — Do I wake or sleep ? 

Thrush. — 

9. Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, 

Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, 
See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, 
At thy blythe carol clears his furrowed brow. 

Petrel. — 

1. O'er the deep ! o'er the deep ! 

Where the whale, and the shark, and sword-fish sleep, 
Outflying the blast and the driving rain, 
The Petrel telleth her tale — in vain : 
For the mariner curseth the warning bird 
Who bringeth him news of the storm unheard ! 



7. Wordsworth, To the Skylark. 8. Keats' Ode to a 
Nightingale. 9. Burns' Poems, Sonnet. 1. Barry Corn- 
wall's Stormy Petrel. 



ANIMAL CREATION. 141 

Corn-Crake. — 

2. Her callow brood around her cowering cling, — 

She braves its edge — [the scythe's] — she mourns her 

severed wing ; 
Oft had she taught them with a mother's love, 
To note the pouncing merlin from the dove ; 
The slowly floating buzzard's eye to shun, 
As o'er the meads he hovers in the sun ; 
The weazel's sly imposture to prevent; 
And mark the marten by his musky scent ; — 
Ah ! fruitless skill, which taught her not to scan 
The scythe afar, and ruthless arm of man ! 

Cuckoo. — 

3. Delightful visitant ! with thee 

I hail the time of flowers, 
And hear the sound of music sweet 
From birds among the bowers. 

Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 

No winter in thy year ! 

4. I hear thee babbling to the vale 
Of sunshine and of flowers ; 
And unto me thou bring'st a tale 
Of visionary hours. 

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring ! 

Even yet thou art to me 

No bird ; but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery. 

Linnet. — 

5. Hail to thee, far above the rest 

In joy of voice and pinion, 
Thou, Linnet ! in thy green array, 
Presiding spirit here to-day, 
Dost lead the revels of the May, 

And this is thy dominion. 

While birds, and butterflies, and flowers 
Make all one band of paramours, 
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, 



2. Dr. Leyden, The Corn-Crake. 3. Logan's Ode to the 
Cuckoo. 4. Wordsworth, To the Cuckoo. 5. Ibid. The 
Green Linnet. 



I4 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

Art sole in thy employment ; 
A life, a presence like the air, 
Scattering thy gladness without care, 

* * * # 

Upon yon tuft of hazel trees, 
That twinkle to the gusty breeze, 
Behold him perched in ecstacies, 

Yet seeming still to hover ; 
There ! where the flutter of his wings 
Upon his back and body flings 
Shadows and snnny glimmerings, 

That cover him all over. 

Black-cock. — 

6. At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 
Of life reviving, with reviving day. 

Bittern. — 

7. The bittern clamour'd from the moss, 

The wind blew loud and shrill ; 

Swan. — 

8. The Swan on still St. Mary's lake 
Floats double, swan and shadow. 

Fish.— 

9. Our plenteous streams a various race supply, 
The bright-eyed perch, with fins of Tyrian dye, 
The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, 

The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, 
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, 
And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains. 

1. No rocks impede thy dimpling course, 
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, 
With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread; 
While, lightly poised, the scaly brood 
In myriads cleave thy crystal flood ; 
The springing trout in speckled pride; 
The salmon, monarch of the tide ; 
The ruthless pike, intent on war; 
The silver eel, and mottled par. 

6. Lady of the Lake, c. ii. 7. Eve of St. John. 8. Shelley's 
Poems. 9. Windsor Forest, 1. T. Smollet's Ode on 
Leven-Water. 



FISH, ETC. 143 

Devolving from thy parent lake, 
A charming maze thy waters make, 
By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, 
And edges flower'd with eglantine. 

Nautilus. — 

2. Where Ausonian summers glowing, 
Warm the deep to life and joyance, 
And gentle zephyrs nimbly blowing, 
Wanton with the waves, that flowing 
By many a land of ancient glory, 
And many an isle renown'd in story, 
Leap along with gladsome buoyance, 

There Marinere, 

Dost thou appear, 
In fairy pinnace gaily flashing, 
Through the white foam proudly dashing, 
The joyous playmate of the buxom breeze, 
The fearless fondling of the mighty seas. 

Frogs, &c. — 

3. E'en as the frogs, that of a wat'ry moat 
Stand at the brink, with the jaws only out, 
Their feet and of the trunk all else concealed, 
Thus on each part the sinners stood, 

* * # « 

As it befals that oft one frog remains 
While the next springs away : 

4. 'Tis now th' apartment of the toad ; 
And there the fox securely feeds ; 
And there the poisonous adder breeds, 
Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds; 
While ever and anon, there falls 
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. 

Insects. — 

5. He knew the plants in mountains, wood, or mead ; 
He knew the worms that on the foliage feed ; 
Knew the small tribes, that 'scape the careless eye, 
The plants' disease that breeds the embryo-fly; 
And the small creatures who on bark or bough 
Enjoy their changes, changed we know not how ; 
But now th' imperfect being scarcely moves, 

And now takes wing and seeks the sky it loves. 

2. H. Coleridge, To the Nautilus. 3. Cary's Dante 
{Hell), c. xxii. 4. Dyer's Grongar Hill. 5. Crabbe's 
Tales of the Hall. 



1 44 NATURE-STUDY. 

Reptiles and Insects. — 

6. Nature's reptile scene, 

¥ # * * :*: 

Or multipede, earth's leafy verdure creep : 

Or on the pool's new mantling surface play, 

And range a drop, as whales may range the sea, 

Or ply the rivulet with supple oars, 

And oft, amphibious, course the neighb'ring shores ; 

Or shelt'ring, quit the dank inclement sky, 

And condescend to lodge where princes lie ; 

There tread the ceiling, an inverted floor, 

And from its precipice depend secure : 

Or who nor creep, nor fly, nor walk, nor swim, 

But claim new motion with peculiar limb, 

Successive spring with quick elastic bound, 

And thus transported pass the refluent ground. 

* . * * * 

who a twofold apparatus share, 

Natives of earth, and habitants of air; 

* * * # 

Who that beholds the summer's glist'ring swarms, 
Ten thousand thousand gaily gilded forms, 
In volant dance of mix'd rotation play, 
Bask in the beam, and beautify the day ; 
Would think these airy wantons so adorn, 
Were late his vile antipathy and scorn, 
Prone to the dust, or reptile through the mire, 

And ever thence unlikely to aspire ? 

* * * * 

Though numberless these insect tribes of air, 
Though numberless each tribe and species fair, 
Who wing the moon, and brighten in the blaze, 
Innumerous as the sands which bend the seas ; 
These have their organs, arts, and arms, and tools, 
And functions exercised by various rules ; 

* * * * 

All by their dam's prophetic care receive 
Whate'er peculiar indigence can crave : 
Profuse at hand the plenteous table's spread, 
And various appetites are aptly fed. 
Nor less each organ suits each place of birth, 
Finn'd in the flood, or reptile o'er the earth ; 
Each organ, apt to each precarious state, 
As for eternity design'd complete. 
Thus nursed, these inconsiderate wretches grow, 
Take all as due, still thoughtless that they owe. 

6. H. Brooke's Universal Beauty, 1783. 



ANIMALCULE, ETC. 1 45 

Animalcule (Water and air). — 

7. their unseen people. These concealed 

By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
The grosser eye of man : for if the worlds 

In worlds enclosed should on his senses burst, 
From cates ambrosial, and the nectared bowl, 
He would abhorrent turn ; and in dead night, 
When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunned with noise. 
* * * * 

His works the smallest part 

Exceeds the narrow vision of her [haughty Igno- 
rance's] mind. 

Vegetable Creation. 
Wood, &c. — 

8. In the midway of this our mortal life, 
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray 
Gone from the path direct : and e'en to tell 
It were no easy task, how savage wild 

That forest, how robust and rough its growth, 
Which to remember only, my dismay 
Renews its bitterness not far from death. 

9. A dismal grove of sable yew, 

With whose sad tints were mingled seen 
The blighted fir's sepulchral green. 
Seem'd that the trees their shadows cast, 
The earth that nourish'd them to blast : 
For never knew that swarthy grove 
The verdant hue that fairies love ; 
Nor wilding green, nor woodland flower, 
Arose within its baleful bower. 

i. Below me trees unnumber'd rise, 

Beautiful in various dyes ; 
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, 
The yellow beech, the sable yew, 
The slender fir, that taper grows, 
The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs, 
And beyond the purple grove, 

Lies a long and level lawn. 

2. This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines 
and the hemlocks, 



7. The Seasons. 8. Cary's Dante {Hell), c. i. 9. Rokeby. 
1, Dyer's Grongar Hill. 2. Longfellow's Poems, Evan- 
geline. 



146 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct 
in the twilight, 

Stand like druids of eld, with voices sad and 
prophetic, 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on 
their bosoms. 

Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neigh- 
bouring ocean 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 
wail of the forest. 

3. O hemlock-tree ! O hemlock-tree ! how faithful are 

thy branches ! 
Green not alone in summer time, 
But in the winter's frost and rime ! 
O hemlock-tree, O hemlock-tree ! how faithful are thy 
branches ! 
Beech. — 

4. O leave this barren spot to me! 

Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree ! 

Though bush or flowret never grow 

My dark, unwarming shade below ; 
* * * # 

Nor fruit of autumn, blossom-born, 
My green and glossy leaves adorn ; 
Nor murmuring tribes from me derive 
Th' ambrosial treasures of the hive ; 

Ash. — 

5. The mountain-ash, 
Decked with autumnal berries that outshine 
Spring's richest blossoms, yields a splendid show, 
Amid the leafy woods ; and ye have seen, 

By a brook-side or solitary tarn, 
How she her station doth adorn : the pool 
Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks 
Are brightened round her. In his native vale 
Such and so glorious did this youth appear. 

Sweet Briar. — 

6. As pondering as I pac'd, my wandering led 
To a lone river bank of yellow sand, — 

The lov'd haunt of the ouzel, whose blithe wing 
Wanton'd from stone to stone — and, on a mound 
Of verdurous turf with wild-flowers diamonded 

3. Longfellow's Poems. From the German. 4. Campbell, 
The Beech Tree's Petition. 5. The Excursion. 6. D. M. 
Moir, The Eglantine. 



IVY, ETC. 147 

(Hare-bell and lychnis, thyme and camomile,) 

Sprang in the majesty of natural pride 

An Eglantine — the red rose of the wood, — 

Its cany boughs with threatening prickles arm'd, 

Rich in its blossoms and sweet-scented leaves. 

Ivy. — 

7. ancient towers 



Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps, 
And with her arms from falling keeps : 
So both a safety from the wind 
On mutual dependence find. 
'Tis now the raven's bleak abode. 

Gorse. — 

8. Overgrown with fern, and rough 

With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform, 
And dang'rous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
And decks itself with ornaments of gold, 
Yields no unpleasing ramble ; there the turf 
Smells fresh, and, rich in odorif'rous herbs 
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense 
With luxury of unexpected sweets. 

Rose, &c. — 

9. Brought from the woods the honeysuckle twines 
Around the porch, and seems, in that trim place, 
A plant no longer wild ; the cultured rose 

There blossoms, strong in health, and will be soon 
Roof-high ; the wild pink crowns the garden-wall, 
And with the flowers are intermingled stones 
Sparry and bright, — 

1. Soon will the high midsummer pomps come on, 

Soon will the musk carnations break and swell, 
Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon, 

Sweet- William with its homely cottage-smell. 
And stocks in fragrant blow ; 
Roses that down the alleys shine afar, 

And open, jasmine-muffled lattices, 

And groups under the dreaming garden-trees, 
And the full moon, and the white evening-star. 

2. And from the thyme upon the height, 
And from the elder-blossom white 
And pale dog-roses in the hedge, 
And from the mint-plant in the sedge, 

7. Dyer's Grongar Hill, 8. Cowper, The Task, b. i. 
9. Wordsworth's Excursion. 1. Arnold's Poems, Thyrsis. 
2. Ibid. Bacchanalia. 

L 2 



148 



NATURE-STUDY. 



In puffs of balm the night-air blows 

The perfume which the day foregoes. 

And on the pure horizon far, 

See, pulsing with the first-born star, 

The liquid sky above the hill ! 

The evening comes, the field is still. 

3. I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; 
Quite over-canopy'd with luscious woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : A. ii. 

# * * * 

And that same dew, which sometimes on the buds 
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, 
Stood now within the pretty flow'ret's eyes, 
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. A. iv. 

Flowers. — 

4. A sensitive plant in a garden grew, 

And the young winds fed it with silver dew ; 
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light. 
And closed them beneath the kisses of night. 

And the spring arose on the garden fair, 
Like the spirit of love felt everywhere. 
And each flower and herb on earth's dark breast, 
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. 

The snow-drop, and then the violet 
Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, 
And their breath was mixed with fresh odour sent 
From the turf, like the voice and the instrument. 

Then the pied wind-flowers, and the tulip tall, 
And narcissi, the fairest among them all, 
Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess, 
Till they die of their own dear loveliness ; 

And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, 
Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so pale, 
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen 
Through their pavilions of tender green ; 

And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, 
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew 
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, 
It was felt like an odour within the sense ; 

And the rose, like a nymph to the bath addrest, 
Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast, 
Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air 
The soul of her beauty and love lay bare ; 

3. Midsummer -Night's Dream. 4. Shelley, The Sensi- 
tive Plant. 



FLOWERS. I49 

And the wand-like lily, which lifted up, 
As a Mcenad, its moonlight coloured cup, 
Till the fiery star, which is its eye, 
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky ; 

And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose, 
The sweetest flower for scent that blows ; 
And all rare blossoms, from every clime, 
Grew in that garden in perfect prime. 

5. So from the root 

Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
More airy, last the bright consummate flower 
Spirits odorous breathes. 

6. Ye field flowers ! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true, 
Yet, wildings of Nature, I dote upon you, 

For ye waft me the summers of old, 
When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, 
And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, 

Like treasures of silver and gold. 

Violet. — 

7. A violet by a mossy stone 

Half hidden from the eye ! 
— Fair as a star, when only one 
Is shining in the sky. 

Celandine. — 

8. There is a flower, the Lesser Celandine, 

That shrinks like many more from cold and rain, 

And the first moment that the sun may shine, 

Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again ! 

When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, 

Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest, 

Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm 

In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest. 

But lately, one rough day, this flower I past, 

And recognized it, though an alter'd form, 

Now standing forth an offering to the blast, 

And buffeted at will by rain and storm. 

Daisy, &c. — 

9. Thou unassuming common-place 
Of Nature, with that homely face, 
And yet with something of a grace, 

Which love makes for thee ! 



5. Paradise Lost, b. 5. 6. Campbell's Wild Flowers. 
7. Wordsworth's Poems. 8. Ibid. The Lesser Celandine. 
9. Ibid. To the Daisy. 



1 5 O N ATU RE-STUDY. 

Sweet flower ! for by that name at last, 
When all my reveries are past, 
I call thee, and to that cleave fast, 
Sweet silent creature ! 
10. Here at my feet what wonders pass, 
What endless, active life is here ! 
What blowing daisies, fragrant grass ! 
An air-stirr'd forest, fresh and clear. 

After a careful perusal of the foregoing selec- 
tion of varied descriptions of objects composing 
the world of realities around us, we may well 
exclaim with Thomson : — 

O Nature, all-sufficient, over all ! 
Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works : 
Snatch me to heaven ; thy rolling wonders there, 
World beyond world, in infinite extent 
Profusely scattered o'er the blue immense, 
Show me ; their motions, periods, and their laws, 
Give me to scan ; through the disclosing deep 
Light my blind way ; the mineral strata there ; 
Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; 
O'er that the rising system, more complex, 
Of animals ; and higher still, the mind, 
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, 
And where the mixing passions endless shift : 
These ever open to my ravished eye ; 
A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust. 

The field of investigation that lies before us 
is indeed wide and fertile ; and active labourers 
in it, as we have just seen, have not been want- 
ing. What have they not found or developed 
for our instruction, our pleasure and entertainment? 
Can art, or science, or the general tide of human 
progress, be in any way brought to bear on the 
poet's terrestrial labours and celestial flights ; can 
they furnish any new light to guide his steps, 
or to enlarge his vision ? We have heard it 
asserted that Poetry cannot be written on the 

10. Arnold's Poems; Lines, Kensington Gardens. 



NATURE AND ART. 15I 

rules of geometry, and we are firmly convinced 
that such is the fact. In the famous controversy 
regarding the invariable principles of Poetry, 
Bowles maintained, says Moir — c that images 
drawn from the sublime and beautiful in Nature 
are more poetical than any drawn from art ; and 
that the passions and aspirations of man's heart 
belong to a higher class of associations than those 
derived from incidental and transient manners.' 
Moir considers — ' that the very exactness of 
knowledge is a barrier to the laying on of that 
colouring by which alone facts can be invested 
with the illusive hues of poetry. The proof of 
this (he suggests) would be obtained by a refer- 
ence to what has been generally regarded as the 
best poetry of the best authors in ancient and 
modern times.' And he concludes that — ' turn- 
ing to the world of mind it will be at once 
apparent that the precision of science, as shown 
in geographical limits, and in the recognized laws 
of matter, would at once annul the grandest por- 
tions of the Psalms, of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Job, and 
the Revelation. It would convert the mythology 
of Hesiod and Homer into rhapsodies ; and many 
of the poems of Spenser, Shakspeare, Milton, 
Gray, Coleridge, Southey, Wordsworth, Wilson, 
Hogg, and Shelley, — in fact ail imaginative 
verse — into tissues of rant and bombast.' But 
Moir seems to have been needlessly overpowered 
with an imaginary impression, for he goes far to 
prove that history, war, civil commotion, and all 
the terrors of fire and flood, are best treated by 
the poet who should have the most meagre ac- 
quaintance with law, politics, and military and 



152 NATURE-STUDY. 

naval tactics. He would seem to condemn even 
a too exact knowledge of Geography ; and would 
persuade us that it would be impossible for a 
learned modern senator to translate Homer's 
Iliad ; or for another to pen poetry, novels, and 
romances. But the fact is that neither authors 
nor the public can be injuriously affected by the 
extension of technical education ; and much less 
can it blight that lofty and next to divine pro- 
vince which is sacred to the true poet. We 
shall make it clear however, that poetry is an 
Art depending on art, and independent of any 
direct operation of science ; and that although 
public enlightenment may seem to demand from 
the poet a higher exercise of his genius, it is at 
the same time quite within his power to meet 
such a public claim on his fancy and imagination, 
in so far at least as wide Nature is concerned, 
on principles which accord with ancient and 
present usage ; but are now made more apparent 
than heretofore to common observation, and are 
so exemplified as to open to view a new country, 
as it were, with unexplored regions, abounding 
in all that imagination can conceive, or the heart 
desire. 



( *53 ) 



Chapter VI. 

Descriptive poetry in its second division, or large and or- 
dinary sense ; Greek and other early poetry not highly 
descriptive ; Blackmore's Creation ; Thomson's Seasons; 
Darwin's botanical poetry ; Burns as a descriptive poet ; 
characteristics of natural scenes, seasons, &c, in illus- 
trative selections from the poets. 

In the preceding Chapter we have presented a 
copious selection of passages in which single 
natural objects form the theme of descriptive 
poetry. In the present Chapter, which has re- 
ference to a wider range of poetical descriptions 
of natural objects, a smaller number of examples 
will suffice. 

It has been well observed that the first 
developments of Greek poetry were immediately 
connected with religion, which amongst the 
Greeks meant the worship of Nature ; and that 
in a land, of which the climate was genial, and 
the country beautiful. Ampiere observes : — 

So magnificent are the effects of light, that 
even Homer has not attempted to paint a sunrise 
or a sunset; having substituted metaphor for 
details. He has spoken of Aurora, to distract 
attention, so that we omit to observe that he has 
never described Aurora herself. The Homeric 
poems, dating eight or nine centuries before 
Christ, were composed in an unlettered age, when 
human passion was the actuating principle of 



154 NATURE-STUDY. 

life, and the face of Nature the only book open 
to mankind.* 

Humboldt notices in his Cosmos that a pro- 
found feeling of Nature pervades the most 
ancient poetry of the Hebrews and Indians ; 
and exists, therefore, amongst nations of very 
different descent — Semetic and Indio-Germanic. 
He asserts that, excepting human nature, the 
descriptions of external nature in its manifold 
richness of form, as a distinct branch of poetic 
literature, was wholly unknown to the Greeks. 

Sir Richard Blackmore's poem entitled Crea- 
tion^ which appeared in 1700, and which is re- 
commended by Addison in his Spectator, No. 
339, being philosophical rather than descriptive, 
was principally designed to prove the existence 
of God from the evident wisdom, design, con- 
trivance, and choice of ends and means displayed 
in the Universe ; and arguments are offered in 
refutation of the philosophical theories of 
atomists and fatalists ; and prevalent atheistical 
doctrines ; he, therefore, invokes Divine assist- 
ance : — 

That I may reach th' Almighty's sacred throne, 
And make His ceaseless pow'r, the cause of all things, 
known. 

Such being its author's chief concern, the 
Creation is without picturesqueness in descrip- 
tion, even where it would have been appropriate 
and certainly an embellishment. The earth, the 
solar system, man, epicurean and other views of 



* History of Classical Literature. By R. W. Browne, 
M.A., 2 vols. 8vo. — Poets of Ancient Greece. By H. Allford, 
M.A. 8vo., 1841. 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 1 55 

creation, the vicissitude of human affairs, Greek 
and other fables, human reason and faculties, 
lead only to interminable philosophical discussion ; 
without that relief of imagery with which a 
more imaginative poet would have adorned a 
didactic poem of such length and importance. 

The most considerable descriptive poem of 
modern times is The Seasons, by Thomson, 
completed in 1730. Dr. Aikin who wrote an 
essay on the work, observes : ' Natural history, 
in its most extensive signification, includes every 
observation relative to the distinctions, resem- 
blances, and changes, of all the bodies, both 
animate and inanimate, which Nature offers to 
us.' And, alluding to an essay which we have 
already noticed,* remarks that it was intended 
' to show how necessary a more accurate and 
scientific survey of natural objects than has 
usually been taken, was to the avoiding of the 
common defects, and attaining the highest 
beauties, of descriptive poetry. 5 He speaks of 
the poem itself as the original whence our 
modern descriptive poets have derived that more 
elegant and correct style of painting natural 
objects which distinguishes them from their 
predecessors. 

The Botanic Garden, by Dr. E. Darwin, 
which first appeared in 1781, is a singular 
attempt to wed science to poetry, affording con- 
vincing proofs how hopeless it is to attempt the 
production of a botanical or any other scientific 
treatise in a poetical form. It consists of two 
parts, 1 st. The economy of vegetation; and 

* See page 15. 



1 5 6 NATURE-STUDY. 

2nd, The loves of the plants. A perusal of the 
following Argument of the first Canto will 
suffice to show the unsatisfactory character of 
the work : — 

The Genius of the place invites the Goddess of Botany. — 
She descends, is received by Spring, and the Elements — 
Addresses the Nymphs of Fire — Star-light Night seen in 
the Camera Obscura.-«*-Love created the Universe — Chaos 
explodes — All the stars revolve. — Shooting stars — Light- 
ning — Rainbow — Colours of the Morning and Evening- 
Skies — Exterior atmosphere of inflammable Air — Twilight 
— Fire-balls — Aurora Borealis — Planets — Comets — Fixed 
Stars — Sun's Orb. — Fires at the Earth's Centre — Animal 
incubation — Volcanic Mountains — Venus visits the Cyclops. 
— Heat confined on the Earth by the Air — Phosphoric 
lights in the evening — Bolognian Stone — Calcined Shells 
— Memnon's Harp — Ignis fatuus — Luminous flowers — 
Glow-worm — Fire-fly — Luminous Sea-insects — Electric 
Eel — Eagle armed with lightnings — Discovery of Fire — 
Medusa — Phosphorus — Lady in Love — Gunpowder — Steam- 
engine applied to pumps, bellows, water-engines, &c. — La- 
bours of Hercules — Abyla and Calpe. — Electric Machine — 
Hesperian Dragon — Electric Kiss — Halo round the heads 
of Saints — Electric shock — Fairy rings, &c, &c. — The 
great Egg of Night — Western wind unfettered — Naiad 
released — Frost assailed — Whale attacked. — Buds and 
flowers expanded by warmth, &c. — Sirius — Jupiter and 
Semele — Northern Constellations — Ice Islands — Rainy 
Monsoons — Elijah on Mount Carmel — Departure of the 
Nymphs of fire like sparks from artificial fireworks. 

But with all its eccentricities a selection might 
be made of some pleasing passages, such as, for 
instance : — 

From giant Oaks, that wave their branches dark, 
To the dwarf moss that clings upon their bark. 

Or, the mystical picture of vegetable love : — 

Now Snowdrops cold, and blue-eyed Harebells blend 
Their tender tears, as o'er the stream they bend ; 
The love-sick Violet, and the Primrose pale, 
Bow their sweet heads, and whisper to the gale ; 
With secret sighs the Virgin Lily droops, 
And jealous Cowslips hang their tawny cups. 



DESCRIPTION. I57 

Now the young Rose in beauty's damask pride 
Drinks the warm blushes of his bashful bride ; 
With honey'd lips enamour'd Woodbines meet, 
Clasp with fond arms, and mix their kisses sweet. 

Some remarks that recently appeared in a 
critique on Richardson's Novels, apply to most 
of the prose and poetry of his time, in respect 
to the decided apathy shown to any influences 
of Nature. The novelist presents one of his 
characters passing the Alps, and the only descrip- 
tion given relates to the horrible dangers of 
Mont Cenis, to the effect that ' every object 
which here presents itself is excessively miser- 
able ; ' and ' a spacious park,' or ' a fine prospect,' 
are as coldly alluded to as if they were so much 
furniture for a ' large and convenient country 
house.' 

Throughout Burns's poetry we find many 
exquisite sketches of seasons and scenery, but 
more in connection with the subject of his verse, 
than for description by themselves, and never at 
any length. It would almost appear from senti- 
ments expressed in The Vision that he did not 
feel himself competent to become a rival of other 
bards in that particular department of poesy 
when he modestly says : — 

Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, 
To paint with Thomson's landscape glow ; 
Or wake the bosom-melting throe, 

With Shenstone's art ; 
Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow 

Warm on the heart. 

Yet, all beneath the unrivall'd rose, 

The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; 

Tho' large the forest's monarch throws 

His army shade, 
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, 

Adown the glade. 



I58 NATURE-STUDY. 

But whoever can read and enjoy his c wood- 
notes wild ' must feel persuaded that the author 
of The Brigs of Ayr, Tarn O'Sbanter, A 
Wifiter Night, Epistles, Verses, and many others, 
had it served his purpose, might have left us 
pieces surpassing even those of Thomson, Gray, 
or Shenstone. He could not have written : — 

Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
The stretching landscape into smoke decays ! 

Such we find in Thomson's Summer; but never 
any lines so weak and diffuse occur in the short 
descriptive pieces by Burns, in which everything 
seems more or less to have being, and to live 
and move : — 

Here, rivers in the sea were lost ; 
There, mountains to the skies were tost : 
Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast 
With surging foam. 

Of the following illustrative specimens, some 
are imaginative, and others drawn direct from 
natural scenery. Where generalization takes the 
place of detail the picture becomes propor- 
tionably sketchy, as in some of Milton's descrip- 
tions ; but draughts from Nature itself indicate 
their origin by unmistakeable touches of cha- 
racter : — 

Mountain Scenery. — 

1. It was a mountain at whose verdant feet 
A spacious plain outstretch'd in circuit wide 
Lay pleasant ; from his side two rivers flow'd, 
Th' one winding, th' other straight, and left between 
Fair champain with less rivers intervein'd, 
Then meeting join'd their tribute to the sea : 

1. Paradise Regained, b. iii. 



MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 1 59 

Fertile of corn the glebe, of oil and wine ; 

With herds the pastures throng'd, with flocks the hills, 

>;; * # * * 

here and there was room 



For barren desert, fountainless and dry. 

2. The western side 

Of that high mountain, whence he might behold 

Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide, 

Wash'd by the southern sea, and on the north 

To equal length back'd with a ridge of hills, 

That screen'd the fruits of the earth and seats of men 

From old Septentnon blasts, thence in the midst 

Divided by a river, 

* ■& * 

Gardens, and groves- ■ 

Above the height of mountains interpos'd : 

3. Green fields, and glowing rock, and glancing streamlet, 
all slope together in the sunshine towards the brows of 
ravines, where the pines take up their own dominion of 
saddened shade : and with everlasting roar in the twi- 
light, the stronger torrents thunder down, pale from the 
glaciers, filling all their chasms with enchanted cold, 
beating themselves to pieces against the great rocks 
that they have themselves cast down, and forcing fierce 
way beneath their ghastly poise. 

The mountain paths slope to these glens in forky 
zigzags, leading to some grey and narrow arch, all 
fringed under its shuddering curve with the ferns that 
fear the light ; 

4. [Mr. Ruskin, in allusion to the mountain gloom in the 
neighbourhood of the valley of the Rhone, says : — ] I 
do not know that there is a district in the world more 
calculated to illustrate the power of the expectant 
imagination than that which surrounds the city of 
Fribourg in Switzerland, extending from it towards 
Berne. It is of grey sandstone, considerably elevated, 
but presenting no object of striking interest to the 
passing traveller; so that, as it is generally seen in 
the course of a hasty journey from the Bernese Alps 
to those of Savoy, it is rarely regarded with any other 
sensation than that of weariness, all the more painful 
because accompanied with reaction from the high excite- 
ment caused by the splendour of the Bernese Oberland. 
The traveller, footsore, feverish, and satiated with 

2. Paradise Regained, b. iv. 3. Ruskin's Modern 
Painters, vol. i. 1846. 4. Ibid. vol. iv. 1856. 



1 60 NATURE-STUDY. 

glacier and precipice, his back in the corner of the 
diligence, perceiving little more than that the road is 
winding and hilly, and the country through which it 
passes cultivated, and tame. Let him, however, only 
do this tame country the justice of staying in it a few 
days, until his mind has recovered its tone, and take 
one or two long walks through its fields, and he will 
have other thoughts of it. It is an undulating district 
of grey sandstone, never attaining any considerable 
height, but having enough of the mountain spirit to 
throw itself into continual succession of bold slope and 
dale ; elevated, also, just far enough above the sea to 
render the pine a frequent forest tree along its irregular 
ridges. Through this elevated tract the river cuts its 
way in a ravine some five or six hundred feet in depth, 
which winds for leagues between the gentle hills, 
unthought of, until its edge is approached ; and then 
suddenly, through the boughs of the firs, the eye per- 
ceives, beneath, the green and gliding stream, and the 
broad walls of sandstone cliff that form its banks ; 
hollowed out where the river leans against them, as it 
turns, into perilous overhanging, and, on the other 
shore, at the same spots, leaving little breadths of 
meadow between them and the water, half-overgrown 
with thicket, deserted in their sweetness, inaccessible 
from above, and rarely visited by any curious wan- 
derers along the hardly traceable footpath which 
struggles for existence beneath the rocks. And there 
the river ripples, and eddies, and murmurs in an utter 
solitude. It is passing through the midst of a thickly 
peopled country ; but never was a stream so lonely. 
The feeblest and most far-away torrent among the 
high hills has its companions : the goats browse beside 
it ; and the traveller drinks from it, aad passes over it 
with his staff; and the peasant traces a new channel 
for it down to his mill-wheel. But this stream has no 
companions : it flows on in an infinite seclusion, not 
secret nor threatening, but a quietness of sweet day- 
light and open air, — a broad space of tender and deep 
desolateness, drooped into repose out of the midst of 
human labour and life ; the waves plashing lowly, 
with none to hear them ; and the wild birds building 
in the boughs, with none to fray them away ; and the 
soft, fragrant herbs rising, and breathing, and fading, 
with no hand to gather them ; — and yet all bright and 
bare to the clouds above, and to the fresh fall of the 
passing sunshine and pure rain.' 



MOUNTAIN SCENERY, ETC. l6l 

5. [On the beauty of mountains the same writer ob- 
serves : — ] The best image which the world can give of 
Paradise is in the slope of the meadows, orchards, and 
corn-fields on the sides of a great Alp, with its purple 
rocks and eternal snows above ; this excellence not 
being in anywise a matter referable to feeling, or indi- 
vidual preferences, but demonstrable by calm enumera- 
tion of the number of lovely colours on the rocks, the 
varied grouping of the trees, and quantity of noble 
incidents in stream, crag, or cloud, presented to the 
eye at any given moment, * * * among moun- 
tains, large unbroken spaces of pure violet and 
purple are introduced in their distances ; and even 
near, by films of cloud passing over the darkness of 
ravines or forests, blues are produced of the most 
subtle tenderness ; these azures and purples passing 
into rose-colour of otherwise wholly unattainable deli- 
cacy among the upper summits, the blue of the sky being 
at the same time purer and deeper than in the plains. 

Naples. — 

6. The sun is warm, the sky is clear, 
The waves are dancing fast and bright, 
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear 
The purple noon's transparent light : 
The breath of the moist air is light 
Around its unexpanded buds ; 

Like many a voice of one delight — 
The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods' — 
The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. 

I see the Deep's untrampled floor 
With green and purple sea-weeds strown ; 
I see the waves upon the shore 
Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown : 
I sit upon the sands alone ; 
The lightning of the noon-tide ocean 
Is flashing round me, and a tone 
Arises from its measured motion — 
How sweet ! did any heart now share in my emotion. 

Italy. — 

7. Far to the right, where Apennine ascends, 

Bright as the summer, Italy extends ; 
Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, 
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride, 

5. Modem Painters, vol. iv. 1856. 6. Shelley's Poems, 
Naples. 7. Goldsmith, The Traveller. 

M 



1 6 2 NATURE-STUDY. 



Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, 
The sons of Italy were surely blest. 
Whatever fruits in different climes are found, 
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground- 
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 
Whose bright succession decks the varied year- 
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky 
With vernal lives, that blossom but to die — 
These here disporting own the kindred soil, 
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; 
While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand 

To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. 
* * # # 

In florid beauty groves and fields appear. 
Etna, &c. — 

8. The mules, I think, will not be here this hour. 
They feel the cool wet turf under their feet 
By the stream side, after the dusty lanes 
In which they have toiled all night from Catana, 
And scarcely will they budge a yard. . O Pan ! 
How gracious is the mountain at this hour ! 

[The harper Callicles sings. The scene described.] 

The track winds down to the clear stream 

To cross the sparkling shallows ; there 

The cattle love to gather, on their way 

To the high mountain pastures, and to stay, 

Till the rough cow-herds drive them past, 

Knee-deep in the cool ford ; for 'tis the last 

Of all the woody, high, well-water'd dells 

On Etna ; and the beam 

Of noon is broken there by chesnut boughs 

Down its steep verdant sides ; the air 

Is freshen'd by the leaping stream, which throws 

Eternal showers of spray on the moss'd roots 

Of trees, and veins of turf, and long dark shoots 

Of ivy-plants, and fragrant hanging bells 

Of hyacinths, and on late anemones, 

That muffle its wet banks ; but glade, 

And stream, and sward, and chesnut trees, 

End here ; Etna beyond, in the broad glare 

Of the hot noon, without a shade, 

Slope behind slope, up to the peak, lies bare; 

The peak, round which the white clouds play. 

8. M. Arnold's New Poems, 1867; Empedocles on Etna. 



ETNA, ETC. 163 

* * the sun 

Is shining on the brilliant mountain crests, 
And on the highest pines ; but further down 
Here in the valley is in shade ; the sward 
Is dark, and on the stream the mist still hangs ; 
One sees one's footprints crush'd in the wet grass, 
One's breath curls in the air ; and on these pines 
That climb from the stream's edge, the long grey tufts, 
Which the goats love, are jewell'd thick with dew. 

9. Hazy Scene. — 

'Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high : 
Southward the landscape indistinctly glared 
Through a pale steam ; but all the northern downs, 
In clearest air ascending, showed far off 
A surface dappled o'er with shadows flung 
From many a brooding cloud, far as the sight 
Could reach, those many shadows lay in spots 
Determined and unmoved, with steady beams 
Of bright and pleasant sunshine interposed ; 
. Pleasant to him who on the soft cool moss 
Extends his careless limbs along the front 
Of some huge cave, whose rocky ceiling casts 
A twilight of its own, an ample shade, 
Where the wren warbles, while the dreaming man, 
Half conscious of the soothing melody, 
With sidelong eye looks out upon the scene, 
By that impending covert made more soft, 
More low and distant ! 

A woody Dell. — 

1. More dark 



And dark the shades accumulate — the oak, 

Expanding its immense and knotty arms 

Embraces the light beech. The pyramids 

Of the tall cedar over-arching, frame 

Most solemn domes within, and far below, 

Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky, 

The ash and the acacia floating hang 

Tremulous and pale. Like restless serpents, clothed 

In rainbow and in fire, the parasites, 

Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around 

The gray trunks ; and, as gamesome infant's eyes, 

With gentle meanings, and midst innocent wiles, 

Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, 

These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs 

Uniting their close union ; the woven leaves 

9. The Excursion. 1. Shelley's Alastor. 

M 2 



164 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, 
And the night's noontide clearness, mutable 
As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns 
Beneath these canopies extend their swells, 
Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms 
Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen 
Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jas- 
mine, 
A soul-dissolving odour, to invite 
To some more lovely mystery. Through the dell, 
Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep 
Their noon-day watch, and sail among the shades, 
Like vaporous shapes half-seen ; beyond, a well, 
Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave, 
Images all the woven boughs above, 
And each depending leaf, and every speck 
Of azure sky, darting between their chasms ; 
Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves 
Its portraiture, but some inconstant star 
Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair, 
Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon, 
Or gorgeous insect, floating motionless, 
Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings 
Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon. 

A calm Scene. — 

2. The sun's bright orb, declining all serene, 

Now glanced obliquely o'er the woodland scene. 
Creation smiles around ; on every spray 
The warbling birds exalt their evening lay. 
Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train 
Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain : 
The golden lime and orange there were seen, 
On fragrant branches of perpetual green. 
The crystal streams, that velvet meadows lave, 
To the green ocean roll with chiding wave. 
The glassy ocean hush'd forgets to roar, 
But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore : 
And lo ! his surface, lovely to behold ! 
Glows in the west, a sea of living gold ! 
While, all above, a thousand liveries gay 
The skies with pomp ineffable array. 
Arabian sweets perfume the happy plains : 
Above, beneath, around enchantment reigns ! 
While yet the shades, on time's eternal scale, 
With long vibration deepen o'er the vale ; 

2. W. Falconer, The Shipwreck. 



CALM SCENE. 1 65 

While yet the songsters of the vocal grove 
With dying numbers tune the soul to love ; 
With joyful eyes th' attentive master sees 

Th' auspicious omens of an eastern breeze. 

* * * * 

Deep midnight now involves the livid skies, 
While infant breezes from the shore arise. 
The waning moon, behind a wat'ry shroud, 
Pale-glimmer'd o'er the long-protracted cloud. 
A mighty ring around her silver throne, 
With parting meteors cross'd portentous shone. 
This in the troubled sky full oft prevails ; 
Oft deem'd a signal of tempestuous gales. 

From east to north the transient breezes play ; 
And in the Egyptian quarter soon decay. 

^ * ^C ijC 

Now morn, her lamp pale glimmering on the sight, 
Scatter'd before her van reluctant night, 
She comes not in refulgent pomp array'd, 
But sternly frowning, wrapt in sullen shade. 
Above incumbent vapours, Ida's height, 
Tremendous rock ! emerges on the sight. 
North-east the guardian isle of Standia lies, 
And westward Freschin's woody capes arise. 
* * * * 

Evening. — 
3. The sultry summer day is done. 
The western hills have hid the sun, 
But mountain peak and village spire 
Retain reflection of his fire. 
Old Barnard's towers are purple still, 
To those that gaze from Toller-hill ; 
Distant and high, the tower of Bowes 
Like steel upon the anvil glows ; 
And Stanmore's ridge, behind that lay, 
Rich with the spoils of parting day, 
In crimson and in gold array'd, 
Streaks yet awhile the closing shade, 
Then slow resigns to darkening heaven 
The tints which brighter hours had given. 

The eve, that slow on upland fades, 
Has darker closed on Rokeby's glades, 



3. Scott's Rokeby, c. v. 



1 66 NATURE-STUDY. 

Where, sunk within their banks profound, 
Her guardian streams to meeting wound. 
The stately oaks, whose sombre frown 
Of noontide made a twilight brown, 
Impervious now to fainter light, 
Of twilight make an early night. 
Hoarse into middle air arose 
The vespers of the roosting crows, 
And with congenial murmurs seem 
To wake the Genii of the stream ; 
For louder clamour'd Greta's tide, 
And Tees in deeper voice replied. 
And fitful waked the evening wind, 
Fitful in sighs its breath resign'd. 

Lake Scene. — 

4. The summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees ; 

And the pleased lake, like the maiden coy, 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy; 

The mountain-shadows on her breast 

Were neither broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertainty they lie, 

Like future joys in Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice rear'd of silver bright ; 

The doe awake, and to the lawn, 

Begemm'd with dewdrops, led her fawn ; 

The grey mist left the mountain side, 

The torrent show'd its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky, 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; 

In answer coo'd the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 

Rustic Scene. — 

5. On either side the river lie 
Long fields of barley and of rye, 

That clothe the wold and meet the sky ; 
And thro' the field the road runs by 

To many-tower'd Camelot ; 
And up and down the people go, 

4. Scott's Lady of the Lake, c. iii. 5. Tennyson's Lady of 
Shalott. 



RUSTIC SCENE. 1 67 

Gazing where the lilies blow 
Round an island there below, 

The island of Shalott. 
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 
Little breezes dusk and shiver 
Thro' the wave that runs for ever 
By the island in the river 

Flowing down to Camelot. 

* * * * 

Overlook a space of flowers, 
And the silent isle imbowers 

The Lady of Shalott. 

Sterile Scene. — 

6. No matter what the sketch might be ; 
Whether the high field on the bushless Pike, 
Or even a sand-built ridge 

Of heaped hills that mound the sea, 

Overblown with murmurs harsh, 

Or even a lowly cottage whence we see 

Stretch'd wide and wild the waste enormous marsh, 

Where from the frequent bridge, 

Like emblems of infinity, 

The trenched waters run from sky to sky; 

Moorland. — 

7. 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the 

curlews call, 
Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over 

Locksley Hall ; 
Locksley Hall, that half in ruin overlooks the sandy 

tracts, 
And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. 

* * ^ >!' 

great Orion sloping slowly to the West. 

Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the 

mellow shade, 
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver 
braid. 

* * * * 

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the 

robin's breast ; 
In the Spring the wanton ^lapwing gets himself 

another crest ; 
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd 

dove. 

6. Tennyson's Ode to Memory. 7. Ibid. Locksley Hall. 



J 6 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

Spring Morning. — 

8. How beauteous, how lovely, is ev'rything here ! 
The sun on the hill-side, the shade on the weir ; 
Where through the bright crystal the fishes are seen, 
Where wave o'er the water the alder-trees green. 

How glow the bright meadows with young verdure 

new ! 
How fresh bloom the flow' rets bespangled with dew ! 
The berry already is blushing in red ; 
The wheat-ear is smiling with promise of bread. 

The slender birch waves in the whispering grove ; 
The blackberry twineth the rockstone above ; 
The honey-bee hums as he swiftly speeds on ; 
The frog's voice is drowned in the lark r s sweeter tone. 

How beauteous, how lovely do all things appear! 
The waterfall's murmur, the shade on the weir. 
On all sides around us pure joys are unfurled, 
To light with their radiance our path through the 
world. 

Spring.— 

g. And see where surly Winter passes off, 

Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts; 
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 
The shattered forest, and the ravaged vale ; 
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 

The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulphed 
To shake the sounding marsh ; or, from the shore, 
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 

And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 

* * * * 

In various hues ; but chiefly thee, gay green ! 

Thou smiling Nature's universal robe ! 

United light and shade ! where the sight dwells 

With growing strength, and ever-new delight. 

* * ■',< * 

The hawthorn whitens, and the juicy groves 
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 
Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed, 
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales. 



8. Dulcken's German Songs (W.G.Becker). 9. The Seasons. 



SPRING, SUMMER. 1 69 

The garden glows, and fills the liberal air 
With lavish fragrance ; while the promised fruit 
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived, 
Within its crimson folds. 

* * * * 

Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs 
around. 
Summer. — 

1. But yonder comes the powerful king of day, 
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad. 

* * # * 

The very dead creation, from thy touch 
Assumes a mimic life. By thee refined, 
In brighter mazes the reluctant stream 
Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, 
Projecting horror on the blackened flood, 
Softens at thy return. The Desert joys 

Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. 

* * * * 

Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, 
Dew-drooping Coolness to the shade retires ; 
There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, 
By gelid founts and careless rills to muse ; 
While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky, 
With rapid sway, his burning influence darts 
On man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. 

* * * * 

Say, shall we wind 

Along the streams ? or walk the smiling mead ? 
Or court the forest-glades ? or wander wild 
Among the waving harvests ? or ascend, 
While radiant Summer opens all its pride, 
Thy hill, delightful Shene ?, 

Autumn. — 

2. Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky, 
And, unperceived, unfolds the spreading day ; 
Before the ripened field the reapers stand, 

In fair array ; 

* * * * 

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, 
Warned of approaching Winter, gathered, play 

1,2. The Seasons. 



1 70 NATURE-STUDY. 

The swallow-people ; and tossed wide around, 
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, 
The feathered eddy floats : rejoicing once, 
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire ; 

But see the fading many-coloured woods, 
Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk and dun 
Of every hue, from wan-declining green 
To sooty dark. 

* # * * 

While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, 
And each wild throat whose artless strains so late 
Swelled all the music of the swarming shades, 
Robbed of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit 
On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock ; 
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, 
And nought save chattering discord in their note. 

# * * * 

Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ; 
And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
Their sunny robes resign. 

Winter. — 

3. See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, 
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; 
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. 

* # * * 

Hung o'er the farthest verge of heaven, the Sun 
Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day. 

* * * * 

a blackening: train 



Of clamorous rooks thick urge their weary flight, 
And seek the closing shelter of the grove. 
Assiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl 
Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high 
Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land. 
Loud shrieks the soaring hern ; and with wild wing 
The circling sea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds. 

%: %. sj: s|! 

Huge Uproar lords it wide. The clouds commixed 
With stars swift-gliding, sweep along the sky. 

All nature reels : 

* * * * 

. The cherished fields 



Put on their winter-robe of purest white. 
3. Thomson, The Seasons. 



WINTER, ETC. 171 

'Tis brightness all ; 

* * * * 

'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. 
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! 
How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
His desolate domain. 

4. Oft have I seen a sudden storm arise, 

From all the warring winds that sweep the skies 

The heavy harvest from the root is torn, 

And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble borne : 

With such a force the flying rack is driv'n, 

And such a winter wears the face of heav'n. 

And oft whole sheets descend of sluicy rain, 

Suck'd by the spongy clouds from off the main : 

The lofty skies at once come pouring down, 

The promis'd crop and golden labours drown. 

The dikes are fill'd ; and, with a roaring sound, 

The rising rivers float the nether ground ; 

And rocks the bellowing voice of boiling seas rebound. 

* $z * * 

When winter's rage abates, when cheerful hours 
Awake the Spring, and Spring awakes the flow'rs, 

* * * ■* 

Above the rest, the sun, who never lies, 

Foretels the change of weather in the skies : 

* » * * 

The sun reveals the secrets of the sky ; 
And who dares give the source of light the lie ? 

Evening. — 

5. The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 

The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea, 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

4. Dryden's Virgil's Georgics, G. i. 5. T. Gray's Elegy. 



I72 NATURE-STUDY. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, 

The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

6. The deep'ning shades o'erspread the golden west, 

The mottled clouds sweep on before the breeze, 
Rude Labour leaves his weary sons to rest, 
And sea-like murmurs sound among the trees. 

The muffled owl sails by on silent wing, 
The drowsy moth pursues his dusky way, 

Light-crested gnats their busy carols sing, 
And closing flowrets mourn departing day. 

Soft dews descending bathe the thirsty ground, 
A mingled fragrance cheers the pensive night, 

Dim rising vapours slowly roll around, 

And wand'ring glow-worms shed their emerald 
light. 

Now breathe the high romantic love-lorn tale, 
And mix ideal scenes of fairy bliss ; 

Let airy harps from ev'ry passing gale 

Steal heav'nly notes with soft enchanting kiss. 

The mingled charm shall cheat my ardent soul ; 

And, gleaming thro' the dim fantastic light, 
Bright shadowy forms around my head shall roll, 

And golden visions bless my ravish'd sight. 

7. I stood on the mountain summit, 

At the hour when the sun did set ; 
I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland 
The evening's golden net. 

And, with the dew descending, 

A peace on earth there fell, — 

And Nature lay hushed in quiet, 

At the voice of the evening bell. 
* * * * 

— every flower is closing 

In silence its little eye, — 
And every wave in the brooklet 

More softly murmureth by. 

6. Miss Aikin, Evening. 7. F. Ruckert's Evening Song 
(from Dulcken's German Songs). 



DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 1 73 

The weary caterpillar 

Hath nestled beneath the weeds ; 
All wet with dew now slumbers 

The dragon-fly in the reeds. 

The golden beetle hath laid him 

In a rose-leaf cradle to rock ; 
Now wend to their nightly shelter 

The shepherd and his flock. 

The lark from on high is seeking 

In the moistened grass her nest, 
The hart and the hind have laid them 

In their woodland haunt to rest. 

The two classes of Descriptive Poetry of 
which we have presented illustrations in this and 
the preceding Chapter, differ in no essential cha- 
racteristic from each other, except in that which 
has given rise to the classification we have 
adopted. The one has reference to minute and 
single objects; the other embraces varied and 
complex views of Nature's wide domain. Neces- 
sarily, therefore, the latter includes the former, 
as the forest includes its constituent trees ; and 
the delineation of a tree includes a picture of the 
leaves which form its chief adornment. To the 
poet, however, there is a wide difference in the 
uses to which the two classes of subjects may be 
applied. The more minute portraiture of single 
objects is more effective than vague generaliza- 
tion ; and short, terse descriptions are in continual 
request for apt comparisons, and other figures of 
speech. 

Having thus considered the external features 
of Nature, the heavens above, and the earth 
beneath ; land and water ; the vegetable and 
the mineral kingdoms ; the seasons in all their 
changing aspects, and characteristic phenomena ; 



1 74 NATURE-STUDY. 

the irrational tribes of the animal creation ; in 
short the vast universe, Mankind only excepted, 
we shall now be prepared to receive the poet's 
inspirations in reference to the human race — the 
beings for whose occupation and use our globe 
and its productions have been prepared and set 
apart. 



( i75 



Chapter VII. 

Human Nature ; an independent and important study : 
illustrative poetical examples, physical, metaphysical, 
ethical, theological, social, and political ; Fletcher's 
Purple Island ; general observations. 

What an interminable study is Man ! Singly 
or socially, physically or metaphysically, sensually 
or spiritually, the subject enlarges, and expands, 
and grows before our imaginations as the one 
proper study in Creation to which all others 
must acknowledge complete subjection. It has 
consequently been the poet's particular privilege 
from time immemorial to sing hymns of praise 
referring to the abodes of blessed spirits, to excite 
the passions in war-songs, to commemorate heroic 
deeds of arms, and in other ways, whether in 
odes, pastorals, or convivial and bacchanalian 
ballads to delight their hearers in temples, aca- 
demies, or at festive boards. No age has been 
so rude or rustic as to be without its poetic sages, 
and the sister arts of poetry and music. 

The poetry of Human Nature has the advan- 
tage over all other poetry of engaging the atten- 
tion of all classes of society. Hence the drama, 
which vivifies to the imagination the past, the 
present, or the remote. Whether the poetry 
partakes of the social or political ; the influence 
of the worst or the best passions ; or depicts 
pleasing or tragical events, so long as the actions 



1 76 NATURE-STUDY. 

relate to humanity so surely will they live to last 
and to please. As Akenside declared : — 

all the teeming regions of the south 

Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight 
Of knowledge, half so tempting or so fair, 
As man to man. 

The illustrative extracts which ensue will 
give a pretty clear insight into the poet's 
usual mode of treating this voluminous subject 
in certain interesting phases ; and which we 
have chosen to classify as Physical, Metaphysical, 
Ethical, Theological, Social, and Political ; not, 
however, from considering such an arrangement 
as being absolutely necessary, but simply for 
convenience. These, like all other extracts, it 
may be observed, have not been specially sought 
out, but have occurred along with others in a 
course of general reading, otherwise the collection 
might have been made considerably more im- 
posing, while at the same time no especial 
advantage would have accrued from such a 
devious course. 

Physical. 

Man. — 

1. (83.) There be many strange things, but the strangest 
of them all is Man. Though the sea be white with 
foam, and wintry winds be blowing, he crosseth over 
the noisy billows. Earth, Mother Earth, is from ever- 
lasting to everlasting ; she is the greatest of all god- 
desses ; but Man fretteth and wearieth her ; for he 
putteth his horse to harness, and his ploughs go to and 
fro in the furrow, ever as the seasons come round. He 
spreadeth his snares for the silly birds ; he gathereth the 
fishes of the sea in the meshes of his nets ! Man sur- 
passing in wisdom. By craft he over-reacheth the wild 
beast upon the mountain, and putteth to his yoke the 
long-maned steed and the strength of the great bison. 

i. Thompson's Sales Attici. (Sophocles.) Edin. 1867. 



MAN, ETC. I77 

He sheltereth himself against the rain and frost ; he 
maketh laws and ordinances for himself and his brethren ; 
his thoughts are as swift as the wind ; but he catcheth 
hold of them a-flying, and mouldeth them into speech. 
Disease assaileth him in baffling shapes, but he dealeth 
skilfully with all. Nothing taketh him unawares ; saving 
Death only; and from Death he cannot escape. O Man, 
surpassing in wisdom ! 

2. [Hamlet. ,] I have of late, (but wherefore, I know not) 
lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises : and, 
indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this 
goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; 
this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave 
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with 
golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than 
foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a 
piece of work is a man ! How noble in reason ! how in- 
finite in faculties ! in form and moving, how express and 
admirable ! in action how like an angel ! in apprehension 
how like a god ! the beauty of the world, the paragon of 
animals ! And yet to me, what is this quintessence of 
dust ? man delights not me, — nor woman neither ; though, 
by your smiling you seem to say so. 

Woman. — 

3. Know you not the season sweet, 

Windless, rainless, calm and still, 
Which, untouch'd of Summer's heat, 

Hath forgotten Winter's chill ? 
So sweet the Spring of woman's life, 
Ere yet the girl puts on the wife ; 

Write the vows, that women swear, 
On running water, or thin air. 

Baby. — 

4. Fair is the sunlight streaming down ; 

Fair is a sea, clear, blue, serene ; 
Fair, Autumn, grave in russet gown ; 
Fair, Spring, bedeckt in mantle green ; 

But neither sound nor sight, I trow, 

In sweetness or in beauty vies 
With merry noise of baby-crow, 

With starry light of baby-eyes. 



2. Hamlet. Act 2, sc. 2. 3. Thompson's Sales Attici 
(Sophocles.) 4. Ibid. (Euripides). 

N 



1 7 8 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Brows. — 

5. His lowering brows o'erwhelming his fair sight, 
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky. 

Eyes. — 

6. To see the inclosed lights, now canopy'd 
Under these windows : White and azure ! lac'd 
With blue of heaven's own tinct. 

Smiles. — 

7. O, he smiles valiantly, 

* *• H« 

O, yes ; an 'twere a cloud in autumn. 

8. {Ccesar says of Cassius.) 

; he hears no music : 

Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, 
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirij^ 
That could be mov'd to smile at anything. 

9. Will Ianthe wake again, 

And give that faithful bosom joy 
Whose sleepless spirit waits to catch 
Light, life, and rapture from her smiles ? 

Sleep. — 

1. Come, Sleep 

• the balm of woe, 

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low! 

2. Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber : 
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 

3. the innocent sleep ; 

Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, 
That death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast; 

4. Harpers must lull him to his rest, 

* * * * 

Till sleep sink down upon his breast, 
Like the dew on a summer hill. 



5. Shakspeare's Poems [Adonis.) 6. Cymbeline. 7. 
Troilus and Cressida. 8. Julius Ccesar. 9. Shelley's 
Queen Mab. 1. Sir P. Sidney, To Sleep. 2. Julius Ccesar. 
3. Macbeth. 4. Scott's Bridal of Triermain, c. i. 



SLEEP, ETC. I79 

5. Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep ! 

* * * ■ * 

Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, 
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 

6. A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, 
One after one ; the sound of rain, and bees 
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, 
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; 
I've thought of all by turns ; 

* * * * 

Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, 
And could not win thee, Sleep ! by any stealth. 

Our lives. — 

7. All the world 's a stage, 

* * * ■;■ 

At first the infant 

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; 
And then, the whining school-boy with his satchel, 
v And shining-morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school : 

And then the lover ; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eye-brow : 

Then a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth : 

And then, the justice : 

Full of wise saws and modern instances, 

The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 

* * * * 

his big manly voice, 



Turning again towards childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound : 

Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history. 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 



5. Young's Night Thoughts. 6. Wordsworth, To. Sleep. 
7. As yon like it, Act ii. sc. 7. 

N 2 



1 8 O NATURE-STUDY. 

8. Four Seasons fill the measure of the year ; 
There are four seasons in the mind of man : 
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear 
Takes in all beauty with an easy span : 

He has his Summer, when luxuriously 

Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves 

To ruminate, and by such dreaming high 

Is nearest unto heaven : quiet coves 

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings 

He furleth close ; contented so to look 

On mists in idleness — to let fair things 

Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook : — 

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, 

Or else he would forego his mortal nature. 

9. Time rolls his ceaseless course. The r\ce of yore, 

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, 

Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 

How few, all weak and wither'd of their force? 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his cease- 
less course. 
Old age, &c. — 

10. Though now this grained face of mine be hid 
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 

And all the conduits of my blood froze up ; 
Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, 
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear : 
All these old witnesses (I cannot err) 
Tell me thou art my son Antipholis. 

1. But summer months bring wilding shoot 
From bud to blossom, from bloom to fruit : 
And years draw on our human span, 
From child to boy, from boy to man ; 
And soon in Rokeby's woods is seen 

A gallant boy in hunter's green. * 

Human frame. — 

2. In all her mazes, nature's face they view'd, 

8. Keats' Human Seasons. 9. Scott's Lady of the Lake, 
c. iii. 10. Comedy of Errors, Act v. sc. 1. 1. Rokeby. 
2. Garth's Dispensary, c. i. 



HUMAN FRAME, ETC. I 8 I 

Now she unfolds the faint and dawning strife 
Of infant atoms kindling into life ; 
How ductile matter new meanders takes, 
And slender trains of twisting fibres makes ; 
And how the viscous seeks a closer tone, 
By just degrees to harden into bone ; 
While the more loose flow from the vital urn, 
And in full tides of purple streams return ; 
How lambent flames from life's bright lamps arise, 
And dart in emanations through the eyes ; 
How from each sluice a gentle torrent pours, 
To slake a feverish heat with ambient showers ; 
Whence their mechanic powers the spirits claim ; 
How great their force, how delicate their frame ; 
How the same nerves are fashion'd to sustain 
The greatest pleasure and the greatest pain. 
Life. — 

3. The more we live, more brief appear 

Our life's succeeding stages : 
A day to childhood seems a year, 

And years like passing ages. 
The gladsome current of our youth 

Ere passion yet disorders, 
Steals lingering like a river smooth 

Along its grassy borders. 
But as the careworn cheek grows wan, 

And sorrow's shafts fly thicker, 
Ye Stars, that measure life to man, 

Why seem your courses quicker ? 
When joys have lost their bloom and breath 

And life itself is vapid, 
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death, 

Feel we its tide more rapid ? 
It may be strange — yet who would change 

Time's course to slower speeding, 
When one by one our friends have gone 

And left our bosom bleeding ? 
Heaven gives our years of fading strength 

Indemnifying fleetness ; 
And those of youth, a seeming length, 

Proportion'd to their sweetness. 
Death. — 

4. How wonderful is Death, 
Death, and his brother Sleep ! 

3. Campbell's River of Life. 4. Shelley's Queen Mab. 



1 82 NATURE-STUDY. 

One, pale as yonder waning moon 
With lips of lurid blue ; 

The other, rosy as the morn 

When throned on the ocean's wave 
It blushes o'er the world : 

Yet both so passing wonderful ! 

those azure veins 



Which steal like streams along a field of snow, 

That lovely outline, which is fair 
As breathing marble, 

We are such stuff 



As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

Metaphysical. 
Mind, &c. — 

1. 'Twas given to man to view the heavens on high, 
But not in them the mysteries of the sky ; 

Yet boldly dares his reason penetrate 

The darksome chaos, o'er it to dilate. 

With staggering step, thus scorning heavenly light, 

In error's paths he wanders, lost in night. 

Confused, but not made wise, he pores about, 

Betwixt opinion wavering and doubt. 

Seeking for light, and shadows doom'd to feel, 

He ponders, studies, labours to unseal 

The secret, and at length finds his advance ; 

The more he learns, how great his ignorance. 

Of matter, form, or motion, or the soul, 

Or moments that away incessant roll, 

Or the unfathomable sea of space, 

Without a sky, without a shore to trace, 

Nothing he reaches, nothing comprehends, 

Nor finds its origin, nor where it tends ; 

But only sinking, all absorb'd may see 

In the abysses of eternity. 

2. How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
How complete, how wonderful, is man ! 

O what a miracle to man is man. 

5. The Tempest, Act iv. sc. 1. 1. Kennedy's Poets of 
Spain (Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos). i860. 2. Young's 

Night Thoughts. 



MIND, ETC. 183 

3. Mysterious Thought, swift angel of the mind ! 
By space unbounded, tho' to space confin'd, 

How dost thou glow with just disdain ? how scorn ? 
That Thought cou'd ever think thee earthly born, 
Thou who canst distance motion in thy flight, 
Wing with aspiring plume the wond'rous height, 
Swifter than light, outspeed the flame of day, 
Pierce through the dark profound, and shame the 

darting ray, 
Throughout the universal system range, 
New form old systems, and new systems change, 
Thro' Nature trafnck on, from pole to pole, 
And stamp new worlds on thy dilated soul ; 
(By Time unlimited, unbounded by Space) 
Sure demonstration of thy heav'nly race, 
Deriv'd from that, which is deriv'd from none, 
Which ever Is, but of Himself alone 

Genius. — 

4. Nature's kindling breath 

Must fire the chosen genius ; nature's hand 
Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings 
Impatient of the painful sleep, to soar 
High as the summit : there to breathe at large 
Ethereal air, with bards and sages old, 
Immortal sons of praise. 

Man and Nature. — 

5. I live not in myself, but I become 
Portion of that around me ; and to me 
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
Of human cities tortures : I can see 
Nothing to loathe in nature, save to be 

A link reluctant in a fleshly chain, 
Class'd among creatures, when the soul can flee, 
And with the sky, the peak, and heaving plain 
Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain. 

Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part 
Of me and of my soul, as I of them ? 
Is not the love of these deep in my heart 
With a pure passion ? should I not contemn 
All objects, if compared with these ? and stem 
A tide of suffering, rather than forego 



3. H. Brooks's Universal Beauty, 1735. 4. Akenside's 
Pleasures of Imagination. 5. Byron's Childe Harold, c. iii. 



1 84 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm 
Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, 
Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare 
not glow ? 
Passions. — 

6. Many terrible things doth Earth nurture in her bosom ; 
many creatures terrible to man doth Ampfritrite hold 
within her arms ; consider also the lightning that 
gleameth between heaven and earth, the flying birds, 
and the beasts of the field, and the anger of tempestuous 
winds. But who shall fully tell the daring spirit of man, 
or of woman ? or the passion of desire that dareth all, 
and is linked with sorrow ? 

7. Like the cluster'd stars that roll 
In a circle round the pole, 

Come, and go, and come again : 
Nought within wide Nature's range 
But must ever change and change ; 
Spangled Night must pale away 
Before the glory of the Day , 
Death broods here, and there the while 
Baby-lips begin to smile ; 
If we joy o'er riches won, 
Ere the words of joy be done, 
The substance of our joy is gone. 
Love. — 

8. Standest thou, Love, a power alone ? 
Or art thou twenty powers in one ? 

O thou art Agony, and Delight, 
Sweet Weakness, and resistless Might ; 
Without appeal, thy slightest breath 
Passeth award of life and death ; 
Thou can'st with Frenzy fire the brain, 
And Fever pour thro' every vein ; 
And, even when the passion tide 

Thro' throbbing pulse and vein is sent, 
Can'st calm the troubled soul, and guide 

To tranquil efforts and still content : 
The fish that in the waters glide, 

The birds thro' air that wing their way, 
The beast that roams the mountain side 

Thy penetrant influence must obey ; 

O Love, to thee all things must yield, 

6. Thompson's Sales Attici (j<Eschylus). 7. 8. Ibid. 
(Sophocles.) 



LOVE. 185 



Bird of the air and beast of the field ; 
Cold-blooded fish that swim the sea, 
Brutes of the forest, none are free 
When in the cheek of sweet maiden sixteen 
Bird-like thou buildest a cozy warm nest, 
Then canst thou make, as may daily be seen, 
Fools of our wisest, and knaves of our best. 
9. Whence comes my love ? O heart disclose ; 
It was from cheeks that shamed the rose, 
From lips that spoil the ruby's praise, 
From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze : 

1. I tell thee love is nature's second sun, 
Causing a spring of virtues where he shines. 
And as without the sun, the world's great eye, 
All colours, beauties, both of art and nature, 
Are given in vain to men ; so without love 
All beauties bred in woman are in vain, 

All virtues born in men lie buried, 

For love informs them as the sun doth colours. 

2. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ; 
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears : 
What is it else ? a madness most discreet, 

A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 

3. Pro. , As in the sweetest bud 

The eating canker dwells, so eating love 

Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 

Vol. And writers say, As the most forward bud 

Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 

Even so by love the young and tender wit 

Is turn'd to folly ; blasting in the bud, 

Losing his verdure even in the prime, 

And all the fair effects of future hopes. 

4. Oh, how this spring of love resembleth 

The uncertain glory of an April day ; 
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 

Frail Beauty. — 

5. Brittle beautie, that Nature made so fraile, 
Whereof the gifte is smalle, and shorte is the season ; 

9. J. Harrington's Sonnet. 1. G. Chapman's Comedy 
of All Fools. 2. Romeo and Juliet. 3, 4. Two Gentlemen 
of Verona. 5. H. Howard, Earl of Surrey, Frailtie of 
Beautie. 



1 8 6 NATU RE-STUDY. 

Flouring to-day, to-morrow apt to faile ; 

Fickle treasure, abhorred of reason : 

Dangerous to deal with, — vain, — of none avail ; 

Costlie in keeping, past — not worth two peason ; 

Slipper and sliding, as is an eel's tail ; 

Hard to obtain, once gotten, not geason : 

Jewell of jeopardy, that peril dothe assail ; 

False and untrue, enticeth oft to treason ; 

Enemie to youth, that most may I bewaile ; 

Ah ! bitter sweet, infecting as the poison, 

Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken : 
To-day ready ripe, to-morrow all too shaken. 

Matchless Beauty. — 

6. Where is the maiden of mortal strain, 

That may match with the Baron of Triermain ? 
She must be lovely, and constant, and kind, 
Holy and pure, and humble of mind, 
Blithe of cheer, and gentle of mood, 
Courteous, and generous, and noble of blood — 
Lovely as the sun's first ray, 
When it breaks the clouds of an April day ; 
Constant and true as the widow'd dove, 
Kind as a minstrel that sings of love ; 
Pure as the fountain in rocky cave, 
Where never sunbeam kiss'd the wave ; 
Humble as maiden that loves in vain, 

Gentle as breeze that but whispers and dies, 

Yet blithe as the light leaves that dance in its sighs ; 

Generous as spring-dews that bless the glad ground ; 

Melancholy. — 

7. Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, 
A sigh that piercing mortifies, 

A look that's fastened on the ground, 
A tongue chained up without a sound ! 
Fountain-heads, and pathless groves, 
Places which pale passion loves ! 
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls 
Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! 

# * — a parting groan ! 

These are the sounds we feed upon ; 



6. Scott's Bridal of Triermain, c. i. 7. Beaumont 
and Fletcher. 



LIBERTY, ETC. I 87 

Liberty. — 

8. I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 

To blow on whom I please : for so fools have : 
And they that are most galled with my folly, 
They most must laugh : 

Time. — 

9. The Gods alone know neither age nor death ; 

On all things else Time breathes a withering breath ; 
The fruits of earth grow, ripen, and decay ; 
Man's strength and beauty dwindle, day by day ; 
Faith, dying out, commingles with the dust, 
From whence upsprings a harvest of distrust : 
Ever 'twixt man and man, 'twixt state and state, 
The breeze of Love veers round to gale of Hate ; 
What's sweet to-day is by to-morrow sour : — 
Thus change we all beneath Time's magic power. 
Some once a season, others twice an hour. 

Ethical. 
Generous Nature. — 

1. Behold, O man ! that toilsome pains dost take 
The flowers, the fields, and all that pleasant grows, 
How they themselves do thine ensample make, 
Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throws 
Out of her fruitful lap : how no man knows 

They spring, they bud, they blossom fresh and fair, 
And deck the world with their rich pompous shows ; 
Yet no man for them taketh pains or care, 
Yet no man to them can his careful pains compare. 

The lily, lady of the flow'ring field, 
The flower-de-luce, her lovely paramour, 
Bid thee to them thy fruitless labours yield, 
And soon leave off the toilsome weary stour ; 
Lo, lo ! how brave she decks her bounteous bower, 
With silken curtains and gold coverlets, 
Therein to shroud her sumptuous belamoure ; 
Yet neither spins nor cards, ne cares nor frets, 
But to her mother Nature all her care she lets. 

Life. — 

2. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill 
together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults 
whipp'd them not ; and our crimes would despair, if 
they were not cherished by our virtues. 

8. Asyoulikeit. 9. Thompson's Sales Attici, (Sophocles.) 
1. Fairy Queen, b. ii. c. 6. 2. All's well that ends well. 



1 8 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

Pride. — 

3. O, the good gods, 

How blind is pride ! What eagles are we still 
In matters that belong to other men ! 
What beetles in our own ! 

Virtues. — 

4. his virtues 

Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against 
The deep damnation of his taking off; 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
That tears shall drown the wind. 

5. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, 
If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes : 
The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ; 
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 

6. Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou 

shalt not escape calumny. 

Ingratitude. — 

7. Blow, blow, thou wintry wind, 
Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude ; 

Thy tooth is not so keen, 

Because thou art not seen, 

Although thy breath be rude. 
* * * 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot : 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend remember'd not. 

Nature's Lessons. — 

8. Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The season's difference ; as the icy fang, 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; 
Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, — 

3. G. Chapman, Pride. 4. Macbeth, Act i. sc. 7. 

5, 6. Hamlet. 7, 8. As you like it. 



FLATTERY, ETC. I 89 

This is no flattery : these are counsellors 

That feelingly persuade me what I am. 

* * * # 

And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in everything. 

Flattery. — 

9. Every one that flatters thee 

Is no friend in misery, 
Words are easy like the wind : 
Faithful friends are hard to find. 

Slander. — 

1. No, 'tis slander ; 

whose tongue 

Out-venoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath 
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 

All corners of the world ; 

* the secrets of the grave 

This vip'rous slander enters. 

2. The evil, that men do, lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Caesar ! 

Idleness. — 

3. A soul immortal, spending all her fires, 
Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 
Thrown into tumults, raptured or alarm'd, 
At ought this scene can threaten or indulge, 
Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, 

To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. 

4. Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, 
Upward, and downward, thwarting and convoled, 
The quivering nations sport ; till tempest-winged, 
Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 
Even so luxurious men, unheeding, pass 

An idle summer-life in fortune's shine, 
A season's glitter ! thus they flutter on 
From toy to toy, from vanity to vice ; 
Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes 
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 

9. Shakspeare's Poems. 1. Cymbeline. 2. Julius 
Ccesar. 3. Young's Night Thoughts. 4. Thomson's 
Seasons. {Summer). 



1 90 NATURE-STUDY. 

Coward. — 

5. I know him a notorious liar, 

Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
Look bleak in the cold wind : 

6. And love and friendship on his coward heart 
Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice. 

Bounty. — 

7. For his bounty, 

There was no winter in't ; an autumn 'twas, 
That grew the more by reaping : 

Ruin. — 

8. Ale. How came the noble Timon to this change ? 
Tim. As the moon does, but wanting light to give ; 

But then renew I could not, like the moon ; 
There were no suns to borrow of. 

1. What numbers, once in fortune's lap high-fed, 
Solicit the cold hand of charity ! 

To shock us more, solicit it in vain ! 
Good or Evil Fortune. — 

2. Our remedies oft in ourselves do He, 
Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 

Ambition, &c. — 

3. ('a fire and motion of the soul ') 

— but once kindled, quenchless evermore 
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire 
Of aught but rest, 

4. The high, the mountain majesty of worth 
Should be, and shall, survivor of its woe, 
And from its immortality look forth 

In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow, 
Imperishably pure beyond all things below. 

5. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

Life is but a empty dream ! 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 

5. AIVs well that en'ds well. 6. S. T. Coleridge's Lit. Re- 
mains. 7. Antony and Cleopatra. 8. Timon of Athens. 
1. Night Thoughts. 2. Alls well that ends well. 3, 4. Byron's 
Childe Harold, c. iii. 5. H, W. Longfellow's Psalm of 
Life. 



AMBITION, ETC. 191 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soul. 
* * * 

Lives of great men all remind us 

We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time ; 

* * * 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labour and to wait. 

6. It is not growing like a tree 

In bulk, doth make Man better be ; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : 
A lily of a day, 
Is fairer far in May, 
Although it fall and die that night — 
It was the plant and flower of Light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see ; 
And in short measures life may perfect be. 
Life. — 

7. Life is like the stormy breezes 

Raging with a restless sway ; 
Like the wintry wind that freezes 

Snow-heaps which soon melt away. 
Age, age — year, year overpowers ; 

Still they flow, and still they must ; 
And while children gather flowers, 

Aged fathers sleep in dust. 
Rouse thee, up to noble doing, 

Noble cares and thoughts pursue ; 
Even the boisterous wind, pursuing 

Its fierce course, wafts drops of dew. 
Age. — 

8. The spring, proudly smiling, 
Shall all things revive ; 
And gay bridal-garments 

Of splendour shall give. 

6. Ben Jonson, The Noble Nature. 7. Bowring's Magyar 
Poems ; Hungarian Song. 8. Bowring's Russian Poets, 
(Karamsin.) 



192 NATURE-STUDY. 

But man's chilling .winter 
Is darksome and dim ; 
For no second spring-tide 
E'er dawns upon him. 

Death. — 
9. The very moment that man biddeth adieu unto the 
world, 
Dust, and silver, and gold, unto him, are all three 
one. 

i. Death is here and death is there, 

Death is busy everywhere, 
All around, within, beneath, 
Above, is death — and we are death. 

Death has set his mark and seal 
On all we are and all we feel, 
On all we know and all we fear. 

Theological. 

Divine Love. — 

2. Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, thou art fair : 

thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks : thy hair 
is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount 
Gilead. (1.) 
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honey-comb : 
honey and milk are under thy tongue ; and the 
smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon. 

(no 

3. My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among 

ten thousand. (10.) 
His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, 

and black as a raven, (n.) 
His eyes are the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, 

washed with milk, and fitly set. (12.) 
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers : 

his lips are like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling 

myrrh. (13.) 

4. Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as 

the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army 
with banners ? (10.) 

5. Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon 

thine arm : for love is strong as death ; jealousy is 

9. Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 1862. 1. Shelley, Death. 
2. Solomon s Song, c. iv. 3. Ibid., c. v. 4. Ibid., c. vi. 
S. Ibid., c. viii. 



DEVOTION, ETC. I 93 

cruel as the grave ; the coals thereof are coals of 
fire, which hath a most vehement flame. (6.) 
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the 
floods drown it : if a man would give all the sub- 
stance of his house for love, it would utterly be 
contemned. (7.) 

Devotion. — 

6. A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 

Like ships in seas, while in, above the world. 

He sees with other eyes than theirs ; where they 
Behold a sun, he spies a Deity ; 
What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees ; 
An empire in his balance weighs a grain. 
Soul.— 

7. What though my strains and sorrows flow combin'd? 
Yet ears are slow, and carnal eyes are blind. 

Free through each mortal form the spirits roll, 
But sight avails not. — Can we see the soul ? 

Futurity. — 

8. All, all on earth is shadow ; all beyond 

Is substance ; the reverse is Folly's creed : 
How solid all, where change shall be no more ! 

Sun.— 

9. Hangs out the sun his lustre but for me, 

The single man ? 

Blood. — 

1. Which blood cries, 

Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. 

Vengeance. — 

2. the will of heaven ; 

Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, 
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. 

Social. 

Rich Parents. — 

3. How quickly nature falls into revolt, 
When gold becomes her object ! 

over-careful fathers 



6, 8, 9. Young's Night Thoughts. 7. S. Rousseau's 
Flowers of Persian Literature. 1,2. Richard II. 3. King 
Henry IV., 2nd Part, Act iv. sc. 4. 

O 



194 NATURE-STUDY. 

For this they have been thoughtful to invest 

Their sons with arts and martial exercises : 

When, like the bee, tolling [taking toll] from every 

flower 
The virtuous sweets ; 

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 
We bring it to the hive ; and like the bees, 
Are murder'd for our pains. 

Character. — 

4. he (Ajax) is as valiant as the lion, churlish as 

the bear, slow as the elephant. 

5. With a half-glance upon the sky 
At night he said, ' The wanderings 
Of this most intricate Universe 
Teach me' the nothingness of things.' 
Yet could not all creation pierce 
Beyond the bottom of his eye. 

Youth. — 

6. But thou art fair ; and at thy birth, dear boy ! 
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great : 
Of nature's gifts, thou may'st with lilies boast, 
And with the half-blown rose : — 

7. Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st. 
In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 

and yet as rough, 

Their royal blood enchaf 'd, as the rudest wind, 
That by the top doth take the mountain pine, 
And make him stoop to the vale. 

8. Like a clear little stream, 

That with scarcely a sound, 
Through the plain among flowers, 

Glides whirling around, 
So the fugitive years 

Of my easy life sped, 
Amidst laughter and play, 

Like a dream have fled. 
On that dream to look back, 

Oft in wonder I dwell ; 
Nor to tear me have power 

From its pleasing spell. 

4. Troilus and Cressida. 5. Tennyson's Poems, 1857. 
6. King John. 7. Cymbeline. 8. Kennedy's Poets of 
Spain, (Melendez.) 



YOUTH. I95 

9. Little charm of placid mien, 

Miniature of Beauty's Queen, 
Numbering years, a scanty nine, 
Stealing hearts without design, 
Young inveigler, fond in wiles, 
Prone to mirth, profuse in smiles, 
Yet a novice in disdain, 
Pleasure giving without pain, 
Still caressing, still caressed, 
Thou and all thy lovers blessed, 
Never teased, and never teasing, 
Oh for ever pleased and pleasing ! 

Is the silken web so thin 
As the texture of her skin ? 
Can the lily and the rose 
Such unsullied hue disclose ? 
Are the violets so blue 
As her veins exposed to view ? 
Do the stars in wintry sky 
Twinkle brighter than her eye ? 
Has the morning lark a throat 
Sounding sweeter than her note ? 

1. Little gossip, blithe and hale, 
Tattling many a broken tale, 
Singing many a tuneless song, 
Lavish of a heedless tongue ; 
Simple maiden, void of art, 
Babbling out the very heart, 
Yet abandon'd to thy will, 
Yet imagining no ill, 

Yet too innocent to blush ; 
Like the linnet in the bush 
To the mother-linnet's note 
Moduling her slender throat; 
Chirping forth thy petty joys, 
Wanton in the change of toys. 

2. Swift the golden moments flitted 

Of my childhood's blissful days- 
Soon the smiling joys retreated, 

Which o'er boyhood flung their rays. 



9. A. Philips, To Miss Carteret. 1. Ibid, To Miss 
Pulteney. 2. Bowring's Magyar Poetry, (Kisfaludy.) 

O 2 



I96 NATURE-STUDY. 

Spring, whose footstep never lingers, 

Flowers upon the vernal field, 
All the forest's plumy singers, 

All the lights that nature gild — 
Will not winter's breath destroy them ? 
Other springs shall re-enjoy them ; 

Youth re-kindles not its beam — 

Why do I so idly dream ? 

Friendship. — 

3. . So we grew together, 

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
But yet a union in partition, 

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart. 

4. we still have slept together, 

Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; 
And whereso'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled and inseparable. 

Hand. — 

5. O that her hand ! 

In whose comparison all whites are ink, 
Writing their own reproach ; 

Indecision. — 

6. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can 

Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down feather, 
That stands upon the swell at full of tide, 
And neither way inclines. 

Loveliness. — 

7. O thou, whose wanton footsteps tread 
The garden's flower-enamell'd glade, 
Whose pouting rose-bud lips contain 
More luscious honey than the cane, 
Whose eyes in liquid lustre shine 
Bright as the hue of sparkling wine, 
Whose bending eyebrows shafts of woe 
Dart like arrows from the bow, 

Brows that stole their pearly light 

From the silver queen of night, 

Whose charms have stol'n my soul away, — 

Thy name, thou beauteous tyrant, say ! 



3. Midsummer Night's Dream. 4. As you like it. 5. 
Troilus and Cressida. 6. Antony and Cleopatra. 7. Dr. J. 
Leyden's Poetical Remains; Ode from the Persic of Khakani. 



LOVELINESS. 

The wine of love, that thrills the soul, 
Thy bard has drunk beyond control ; 
To learn thy name would gladly drain 
His life from each enamour'd vein : 
Thou charmer of Khakani, say, 
What beauty steals his soul away ? — 

8. Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes 
Which starlike sparkle in their skies ; 
Nor be you proud, that you can see 
All hearts your captives ; yours yet free 
Be you not proud of that rich hair 
Which wantons with the love-sick air; 
Whenas that ruby which you wear, 
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, 
Will last to be a precious stone 
When all your world of beauty's gone. 

9. beauty 

A crystal brow, a moon's despair, 

the snow's daughter, a white hand, 

mermaid's "yellow pride of hair. 



97 



your starry eyes, 



Your lips that seem on roses fed, 

Your breasts, where Cupid trembling lies, 

Nor sleeps for kissing of his bed : — 

A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks, 
Like Hebe's in her ruddiest hours, 
A breath that softer music speaks 
Than summer winds a-wooing flowers. * 

1. Thou seem'st a rosebud born in snow; 
A flower of purpose sprung to bow 
To heedless tempests and the rage 

Of an incensed stormy age : 

And yet as balm-trees gently spend 

Their tears for those that do them rend, 

Thou didst nor murmur nor revile, 

But drank'st thy wormwood with a smile. 

2. She walks in beauty, like the night 

Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 
And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes : 

8. He.rrick, To Dianeme. 9. Dr. Trench's Household Book 

of Poetry ; Anon, True Loveliness. 1. Ibid., H .Vaughan, 
To Elizabeth of Bohemia. 2. Byron, She walks in Beauty. 

* These lines are given in contrast to True Loveliness. 



I 9 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

Thus mellowed to that tender light 

Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
One shade the more, one ray the less, 

Had half impaired the nameless grace, 
Which waves in every raven tress, 

Or softly lightens o'er her face ; 
Where thoughts serenely sweet express, 

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 
A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent! 
Love. — 

3. Come live with me and be my love, 
And we will all the pleasures prove, 
That valleys, groves, [or] hills, and fields, 
Woods or steepy mountain yields. 

And we will sit upon the rocks, 
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals. 

4. — At first 
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : 
Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, 
Which warp'd the line of every other favour ; 
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n ; 
Extended or contracted all proportions, 

To a most hideous object : Thence it came, 
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, 
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
The dust that did offend it. 

5. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not lov'd : 

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not lov'd : 
Or if thou hast not broke from company, 

3. Marlow, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. 4. 
AIVs well that ends well. 5. As you like it. 



LOVE. I99 

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not lov'd: 

6. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, 
When everything doth make a gleeful boast ? 
The birds chant melody on every bush ; 
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ; 
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground : 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit. 

7. Luc. I do not seek to quench you love's hot fire ; 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it 
burns : 
The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage : 
But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not my course : 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought me to my love ; 

8. What light is light, if Silvia be not seen ? 
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ? 
Unless it be, to think that she is by, 
And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
Except I be by Silvia in the night, 
There is no music in the nightingale ; 
Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
There is no day for me to look upon ; 



He says, he loves my daughter, 
I think so too ; for never gazed the moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes : and, to be plain. 
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
Which loves another best. 



6. Titus Andvonicus. 7. Two Gentlemen of Verona, 
Act ii. sc. 7. 8. Ibid., Act iii. sc. 1. 9. Winter s Tale. 



200 NATURE-STUDY. 



Love.- 



i. Imogen. I would have broke mine eye-strings ; crack'd 
them, but 
To look upon him ; till the diminution 
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle : 
Nay, follow'd him 'till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. 

2. She never told her love, 

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought; 
And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
She sat like Patience on a monument, 
Smiling at Grief. 

3. Juliet. Wilt thou begone ? it is not yet near day : 

It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 

Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, 
No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops ; 
I must be gone and live, or stay and die, [being 
banished.] 

Juliet. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I ; 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
And light thee on thy way to Mantua : 
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. 

Romeo. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ; 
I am content, if thou wilt have it so. 
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ; 
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : 
I have more care to stay, than will to go ; — 
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — 
How is't, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day. 



1. Cymbeline, Act i. sc. 4. 2. Twelfth Night, Act ii. s. 4. 
3. Romeo and Juliet, Act iii. sc. 5. 



LOVE, ETC. 20 1 

4. The lowest trees have tops ; the ant her gall ; 

The fly her spleen ; the little sparks their heat ; 
The slender hairs cast shadows, though but small ; 

And bees have stings, although they be not great. 
Seas have their surges, so have shallow springs ; 
And love is love, in beggars as in kings. 
Where rivers smoothest run, deep are the fords ; 

The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move ; 
The firmest faith is in the fewest words ; 

The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love. 
True hearts have eyes, and ears, no tongues to speak ; 
They hear and see, and sigh ; and then they break. 

Woman. — 

5. O, woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 

By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! 



6. the sigh 

And virgin-glance of first affection cast 

Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd ! 

7. But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, 

Than that which, withering on the virgin-thorn, 
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 

Misfortune. — 

8. . Then was I as a tree, 

Whose boughs did bend with fruit : but, in one night, 
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, 
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
And left me bare to weather. 

I shall fall 

Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
And no man see me more. 

9. This is the state of man ; To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms ; 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, 

And then he falls, as I do. 

4. Dr. Trench's Household Book of Poetry ; Anon. p. 5. 
5. Marmion, c. vi. 6. Lalla Rookh. 7. Midsummer Night's 
Dream. 8. Cymbeline. 9. King Henry VIIL, Act iii. sc. 2. 



202 NATURE-STUDY. 

Age. — 

i. (Macbeth says) my May of life 

Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; 

2. What should we speak of, 

When we are as old as you ? When we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away ? 

Mind. — 

3. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 

4. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff 
Which weighs upon the heart ? 

Tears. — 

5. one, whose subdu'd eyes, 

Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
Their med'cinable gum : 

6. Aumerle, thou weep'st ; My tender-hearted cousin ! 
We'll make foul weather with despised tears ; 

Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, 
And make a dearth in this revolting land. 

7. Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
Being an ordinary inundation ; 

But this effusion of such manly drops, 

This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 

Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd 

Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 

Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 

Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, 

And with a great heart heave away this storm : 

Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 

That never saw the giant world enrag'd ; 

Riot. — 

8. His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last ; 
For violent fires soon burn out themselves : 

Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short. 

1. 3. 4. Macbeth. 2. Cymbeline. 5. Othello. 6. 8. King 
Richard II. 7. King John. Act v. sc. 2, 



GRIEF, ETC. 203 

Grief. — 

9. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so : 
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
Divides one thing entire to many objects ; 
Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, 
Show nothing but confusion ; — ey'd awry, 
Distinguish form : * * 

{York says) What a tide of woes 

Comes rushing on this woeful land at once ! 

10. G. What is six winters ? they are quickly gone. 
B. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. 

Content. — 

1. O, my soul's joy ! 

If after every tempest comes such calmness, 

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! 

And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 

Olympus-high ; and duck again as low 

As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 

'Twere now to be most happy ; for I fear, 

My soul hath her content so absolute, 

That not another comfort like to this 

Succeeds in unknown fate. 

Delight. — 

2. All the bright world's charms seem brighter, 

All the frowns of grief are gone ; 
Livelier beats my heart — and lighter ; 

Sweeter is my harp's sweet tone. 
Life's fresh spring is renovated, 

Bliss finds wings of pride and power, 
Nobler passions are created, 

Being's struggles upward tower : 
I, a new-born life possessing, 
Lov'd and loving — bless'd and blessing — 

Darkening thoughts have pass'd away, 

All is new delight and day. 

Station. — 

3. Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, 
Not one will change his neighbour with himself. 
The learn'd is happy nature to explore, 

The fool is happy that he knows no more ; 
The rich is happy in the plenty given, 

9. 10. King Richard II. 1. Othello, Act ii. sc. 1. 
2. Bowring's Magyar Poems, (Kisfaludy). 3. Pope's Essay 
on Man, 



204 NATURE-STUDY. 

The poor contents him with the care of Heaven. 
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, 
The sot a hero, lunatic a king; 
The starving chemist in his golden views 
Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 

Music. — 

4. That strain again ; — it had a dying fall : 

O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odour. — 

Rage. — 

5. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, 
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. 

Cunning. — 

6. look like the innocent flower, 

But be the serpent under it. 

Murder. — 

7. Ere the bat hath flown 



His cloister' d flight ; ere, to black Hecate's summons, 
The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, 
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done 
A deed of dreadful note. 

The Past. — 

8. There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes 
away, 

* * * * 

* -!< >!< jje 

Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth dis- 
tract the breast, 

Through midnight hours that yield no more their for- 
mer hope of rest ; 

'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreathe, 

All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey 
beneath. 

Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, 
Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a 

vanished scene; 
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish 

though they be, 
So 'midst the withered waste of life, those tears would 

flow to me. 



4. Twelfth Night. 5. King Richard II. 6. 7. Macbeth, 
8. Lord Byron's Stanzas for Music. 



EXTERNAL AND HUMAN NATURE, ETC. 205 

External and Human Nature. — 

g. Have you seen but a bright lily grow, 
Before rude hands have touched it ? 
Have you remarked but the fall o' the snow, 
Before the soil hath smutched it ? 
Have you felt the wool of the beaver ? 
Or swan's down ever ? 
Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar? 
Or the nard in the fire? 
Or have tasted the bag o' the bee ? 
O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! 
Dying. — 

10. Softly ! she is lying 

With her lips apart : 
Softly ! she is dying 
Of a broken heart. 

Whisper ! she is going 
To her final rest : 
Whisper ! life is growing 
Dim within her breast. 
Gently ! she is sleeping, 
She has breathed her last : 
Gently ! while you are weeping, 
She to Heaven has past. 

Political. 
War.— 

1. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen : 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew 

still! 
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

9. Ben J onson's Triumph of Charts. 10. C.G.Eastman, 
A Dirge. 1. Lord Byron, The Destruction of Sennacherib. 



2o6 NATURE-STUDY. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances uplifted, the trumpets unblown : 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the Temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 

Murder. — 

{Duchess of Gloucester says) 
i*. One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, 

Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ; 
One flourishing branch of his most royal root, 
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, 
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. 

King. — 

2. he is gracious, if he be observed; 

He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity : 

being incens'd he's flint ; 

As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd : — 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth : 
But, being moody, give him line and scope ; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
Confound themselves with working. 

3. Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
Can wash the balm from an anointed king ; 
The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
The deputy elected by the Lord. 

Civil War. — 

4. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd 
To bear the tidings of calamity. 

Like an unseasonable stormy day, 

Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 

As if the world were all dissolved to tears ; 

So high above his limits swells the rage 

Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land 

With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. 



1*, 3, 4. King Richard II. 2. King Henry IV. 
2nd Part. 



20 



5. The caterpillars of the commonwealth, 
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away. 

6. But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, 
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm : 
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
And yet we strike not, but securely perish. 

7. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind 
I see thy glory, like a shooting star, 

Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! 
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest : 
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; 
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. 

8. If not, I'll use the advantage of my power, 

And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood 
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen 
(But far from Bolingbroke's desire that) 

such crimson tempest should bedrench 

The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land. 

9. Go, while here we march 

Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. — 

Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet 
With no less terror than the elements 
Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock 
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. 
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: 
The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain 
My waters ; on the earth and not on him. 

King Richard. — 

1. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, 
As doth the blushing discontented sun 
From out the fiery portal of the east ; 
When he perceives, the envious clouds are bent 
To dim his glory, and to stain the tract 
Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye, 
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth 
Controlling majesty: 

(His Sceptre) 
2. well we know, no hand of blood and bone 



Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre. 

*• * * * 

5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 1, 2, King Richard II. 



208 NATURE-STUDY. 

He (Bolingbroke) is come to ope 



The purple testament of bleeding war ; 

(His crown.) 

3. Now is this golden crown like a deep well, 
That owes two buckets, filling one another ; 
The emptier ever dancing in the air, 

The other down, unseen, and full of water : 
The bucket down, and full of tears, am I, 
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. 

(His grief.) 

4. Oh, that I were a mockery king of snow, 
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, 
To melt myself away in water-drops ! — 

(Exton having slain the king, Bolingbroke says) 

5. Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, 

That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow : 

Fitz-James. — 

6. Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, 
His merry-men follow'd as they might. 
Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past, 

And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 
They mark just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 
Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
And on the opposing shore take ground, 
With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth ! 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, 
Upon their fleet career look'd down. 

King James. — 

7. The monarch's form was middle size ; 
For feat of strength, or exercise, 



3, 4, 5, King Richard II. 6. Scott's Lady of the 
Lake. 7. Marmion, c. v. 



209 



A Mob. 



Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazel was his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the darkest dye, 

His short curl'd beard and hair. 
Light was his footstep in the dance, 

And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 
And, oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists. 
Lightly from fair to fair he flew, 
And loved to plead, lament, and sue ; — 
Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, 
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. 

He that trusts to you, 



Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 
Where foxes, geese : You are no surer, no, 
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
Or hailstone in the sun. 

Checks. — 

9. checks and disasters 

Grow in the veins of actions, highest rear'd ; 
As knots by the conflux of meeting sap, 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 

With every effort to abridge our selection of 
poetical illustrations of studies of Human Nature, 
it has assumed a somewhat formidable appear- 
ance, from its affording the chief topic of all 
poetry. We have only to take Ayscough's index 
to Shakspeare's dramas to make this obvious by 
turning to 'man,' giving upwards of 80 lines 
of references ; ' woman,' above 60 lines ; ' wife,' 
28; 'widow,' 14; 'the passion of love,' above 
280 lines, and so on. One such dramatist would 
alone afford abundant examples of variety in 
subjects, if not equally so in modes of treatment. 

In treating of Human Nature, we may remark 

8. Coriolanus, Act i. sc. 1. 9. Troihis and Cressida. 

P 



2 I O NATURE-STUDY. 

that in 1633 Phineas Fletcher published his singu- 
lar poem entitled The Purple Island^ or the Isle of 
Ma?i, in which he sings the anatomy of the 
human frame in metaphorical language, delivered 
in a very pedantic style ; yet some bibliopolists 
have affected to find in his performance lines 
that would match with many in Spenser or 
Milton. 

So far as we have proceeded, whether in 
descriptive poetry of animate or inanimate Nature, 
or of Human Nature singly, it is observable 
that the imagination and fancy have been com- 
paratively tethered ; it is therefore necessary 
that we should now pursue a more airy, pleas- 
ing, and gratifying path in our range among 
poetical literature. 



211 



Chapter VIII. 

Meditative, and religious, moral, or serious poetry; an- 
cient Hebrew poetry ; the Old Testament ; Wordsworth 
on universal Nature ; prose examples ; illustrative poeti- 
cal selections ; remarks on the adopted arrangement. 

In classifying poetical compositions we find a 
style which is neither truly descriptive nor yet 
purely imaginative : even when apostrophizing 
Nature, forming associations with it ; or calling 
it in aid for comparison, reflection, or meditation. 
Such pieces are, therefore, generally written in 
more of a grave than a lively turn of expression, 
well suited for sacred poems, elegies, epitaphs, 
and all serious forms of odes, sonnets, or songs. 
This style is characteristic of Hebrew poetry, 
its essential outlines being, as observed by 
Herder :* its cosmology, the most ancient con- 
ceptions of God, of Providence, of Angels, of 
the Elohim, and of the Cherubim, and individual 
objects, and poetical representations of Nature. 
In the Old Testament we find a rich interchange 
of figurative representation, of characters, and 
of scenery. As in Isaiah, employing the bold 
imagery — 

Heaven is my throne. 
The earth my footstool. 

The intermediate style of which we are 

* See The Spirit of Hebrew Poetry. By J. G. Herder. 
Translated by J. Marsh, 2 vols. 8vo. Burlington, 1833. 

P 2 



2 I 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

treating is fully exemplified in Wordsworth's 
poetry, of which we shall but give the following 
example, from the fourth book of The Excur- 
sion : — 

Happy is he who lives to understand, 
Not human nature only, but explores 
All natures, — to the end that he may find 
The law that governs each ; and where begins 
The union, the partition where, that makes 
Kind and degree, among all visible Beings ; 
The constitutions, powers, and faculties, 
Which they inherit — cannot step beyond, — 
And cannot fall beneath ; that do assign 
To every class its station and its office, 
Through all the mighty commonwealth of things ; 
Up from the creeping plant to sovereign Man. 
Such converse, if directed by a meek, 
Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love : 
For knowledge is delight ; and such delight 
Breeds love : yet, suited as it rather is 
To thought and to the climbing intellect, 
It teaches less to love, than to adore ; 
If that be not indeed the highest love ! 

Cottle, in his Reminiscences of S. T. Coleridge, 
1 847, quotes a passage written by the poet in 
1807, which reaches the poetical in concep- 
tion : — 

I recollect when I stood on the summit of Etna, and 
darted my gaze down the crater; the immediate vicinity 
was discernible, till, lower down, obscurity gradually ter- 
minated in total darkness. Such figures exemplify many 
truths revealed in the Bible. We pursue them, until, from 
the imperfection of our faculties, we are lost in impene- 
trable night. 

In a very unlikely work in which to find any 
similar apposite association with Nature, namely, 
Alison's History of Europe, the following pas- 
sage occurs at the close of the introduction : — 

It is by slow degrees, and imperceptible additions, that 
all the great changes of nature are accomplished. Vegeta- 
tion, commencing with lichens, swells to the riches and 



ASSOCIATION. 2 I 3 

luxuriance of the forest ; continents, the seat of empires and 
the abode of millions, are formed from the deposits of innu- 
merable rills ; animal life, springing from the torpid vitality 
of shell-fish, rises to the energy and power of man. It is by 
similar steps, and as slow a progress, that the great fabric 
of society is formed. 

At a recent public meeting on the state of Ire- 
land, Mr. J. Bright, M.P., took occasion to remark 
that the censors of the Press had declared that 
the discussion in parliament would occupy thirty 
hours of talk, and end in no result ; adding : — 

I have observed that all great questions in this country 
require thirty hours' talk many times repeated before they 
are settled. There is much shower and much sunshine 
between the sowing of the seed and the reaping of the 
harvest ; but the harvest is reaped after all. 

The annexed prose and poetical illustrations 
expressly apply to the present division of our 
subject. 

Apostrophe. 

Moon. — 

1. Daughter of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy 
face is pleasant : thou comest forth in loveliness ; the 
stars attend thy blue steps in the east. The clouds re- 
joice in thy presence, O Moon ! and brighten their dark- 
brown sides. Who is like thee in heaven, daughter of 
the night ? The stars are ashamed in thy presence, and 
turn aside their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou 
retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy coun- 
tenance grows ? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian ? 
Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? • Have thy sisters 
fallen from Heaven ? and are they who rejoiced with 
thee at night no more ? — Yes, they have fallen, fair light ! 
and often dost thou retire to mourn. — But thou thyself 
shalt one night fail, and leave thy blue path in heaven. 
The stars will then lift their heads ; they who in thy 
presence were astonished will rejoice. 



1. Ossian's Poems. 



2 1 4 NATURE-STUDY. 

Trees, &c. — 

2. Ye trees that make so sweet a shade, 

Bend down your waving heads, when he, 
The youth ye honour, through your glade, 

Comes on love's messages to me. 
Ye stars, that shine o'er heaven's blue deep, 

And all its arch with glory fill, 
O wake him, wake him from his sleep, 

If that dear youth is slumbering still. 

Mountains, &c. — 

3. Ye towering mountains upon mountains pil'd, 
Rocks upon rocks up to the clouded sky, 
Build me a temple on your summits high, 
Whence I may reach that angel, far exil'd. 
Ye towering mountains upon mountains pil'd ! 

Ye gathering streams that, through your beds 

beguil'd, 
Roll thundering to the ocean's majesty, 
Singing loud anthems as ye hasten by — 
Bear these, my tears, uncheck'd and undefil'd. 
Ye gathering streams to ocean's depths that hie ! 
Ye winds, ye breezes, wherefore are ye still ? 
Freshen and bear my sighs to her high throne : 
Take pity — hasten — and my prayers fulfil — 
Ye. winds, ye breezes, wherefore are ye still ? 
Waft me to her, seraphic messengers, 
Or her to me — nor let me pine alone ; 
For what are clouds, or storms, or ghostly fears ? 
Waft me to her, seraphic messengers ! 

Heaven. — 

4. . But if there be 

Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! 

Nature. — 

5. Urania ! Nature ! from thy heights descend, 
And low to earth thy bright irradiance bend, 
Dispel the clouds, that round our fancy stray ; 
The mist, that damps our intellectual ray ; 

And show what Pow'r, all height of Power transcends, 
And in one act, performs ten thousand ends. 

2. Bowring's Poetry of Spain (the Maiden waiting her 
Lover. Anonymous, 1595.) 3. Bowring's Poetical Literature 
of Bohemia, (Sonnet 102, from John Kollar's Slawy 
Deera.) 4. Cymbeline. 5. Henry Brooke's Universal 
Beauty, fol. 1735. 



ETC. 215 

6. Nature, great parent, whose unceasing hand 
Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year, 
How mighty, how majestic, are thy works! 
With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul, 
That sees astonished, and astonished sings ! 
Ye too, ye winds, that now begin to blow, 
With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you. 
Where are your stores, ye powerful beings^ say ; 
Where your aerial magazines, reserved 

To swell the brooding terrors of the storm ; 

In what far-distant region of the sky, 

Hushed in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm ? 

Winds. — 

7. O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing 
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
Pestilence-stricken multitudes : O thou, 

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 

The winged seeds ■ 

sjs ^;< . % % 

Martial Faith. — 

8. Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 

When first, by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied, 
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, 
Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow 
of War. 

Mountains, &c. — 

9. Ye mountains stern ! within whose rugged breast 

The friends of Scottish freedom found repose 
Ye torrents ! whose hoarse sounds have soothed their 
rest, 

Returning from the field of vanquish'd foes ; 
Say, have ye lost each wild majestic close, 

That erst the choir of Bards or Druids flung, 
What time their hymn of victory arose, 



6. Thomson's Seasons (Winter). 7. Shelley's Ode to 
the West Wind. 8. Scott's Lady of the Lake, c. v. 

9. Vision of Don Roderick, iv. 



2 1 6 NATURE-STUDY. 

And Cattraeth's glens with voice of triumph rung, 
And mystic Merlin harp'd, and grey-hair'd Llywarch 
sung ! 

Association. 

Leaf. — 

Like the leaf, 

That bows its lithe top till the blast is blown ; 
By its own virtue rear'd then stands aloof; 
So I. 

Fire. — 

2. And sure as smoke doth indicate a flame, 

3. Every deed that a man doth shall not be concealed : 
Did any one tell thee to kindle a lire, and make no 

smoke ? 

Alps. — 

4. Like unto these unmeasurable mountaines 
So is my painful life, the burden of ire ; 
For high be they, and high is my desire ; 
And I of tears, and they be full of fountaines : 
Under craggy rocks they have barren plaines ; 
Harde thoughts in me my woful minde doth tire ; 
Small fruit and many leaves their tops do attire, 
With small effect great trust in me remains : 

The boisterous winds oft their high boughs do blast ; 
Hot sighs in me continually be shed : 
Wild beasts in them, fierce love in me is fed ; 
Unmoveable am I, and they stedfast. 

Of singing birds they have the tune and note ; 

And I alwaies plaintes passingthrough my throat. 

Autumn. — 

5. That time of year thou may'st in me behold, 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
Bare, ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
In me thou seest the twilight of such day, 

As after sun-set fadeth in the west, 

Which by-and-bye black night doth take away, 

Death's second self, and seals up all in rest. 



1. Gary's Dante (Paradise), c. xxvi. 2. Ibid. (Purga- 
tory), xxxiii. 3. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 4. Sir T. 
Wiat, A Lover's Life compared to the Alps. 5. Shakspeare's 
Sonnets. 



NATURE, ETC. 217 

Nature. — 

6. 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more : 

I mourn ; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ; 
For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, 

Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with 
dew. 
Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; 

Kind Nature the embryo-blossom shall save : 
But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn ! 

O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ! 

Blue. — 

7. I've looked into the dark blue sea, 
I've trusted to the deep blue sea ; 
A sky lay mirror'd bright therein, 

And twinkling stars and moonlight sheen ; 
But sadly did it 'fall ; — 

For when to the deep sea I flew, 

I found therein no sky of blue, 
But wild waves to appal. — 
'Twas treachery, falsehood, all ! 

I've looked unto the bright blue sky, 

I've trusted to the bright blue sky ; 

It glanced so pure, it gleamed so fair, 

A golden sun was rising there ; 
But sadly did it 'fall ; — 

The sun that burned so hot and proud, 

Around me many a thunder-cloud 
And lightning-flash did call. — 
'Twas treachery, falsehood, all ! 

I've look'd into two bright blue eyes ; 

I've trusted those two bright blue eyes ; 

They seemed so clear, and pure, and young, 

I gazed thereon in raptures long; 
But sadly did it 'fall , — 

Their lightsome glance was angry glare, 

A tossing flood their mirror fair, 
That did my soul enthral. — 
'Twas treachery, falsehood, all ! 

Action. — 

8. The water it rushes, 

And never will stay ; 

6. Beattie, The Hermit. 7. Dulcken's German Songs, 
(False Blue. Reinick .) 8. Ibid. (The water it rushes. 
Goethe.) 



2 I 8 NATURE-STUDY. 

The stars through the sky 

Wend so gaily their way ; 

The clouds through the heavens 
So merrily glide — 

Thus love rushes onward, 
And ne'er may abide. 

Answer. 

The waters rush onward, 

The cloudlets pass by ; 
But the stars go not from us, — 

They stay, though they fly : 
Of love that is loyal 

The like we may say ; 
It heaves and it rushes, 

Yet fades not away. 

Poplars. — 

9. The poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade 

And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ; 
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, 
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. 

Short lived as we are, our enjoyments, I see 
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. 

Rose. — 

1. ' The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
Emblem of hope and love through future years !' — 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 

Daisy. — 

2. Thrice welcome, little English flower ! 

To this resplendent hemisphere, 
Where Flora's giant-offspring tower 

In gorgeous liveries all the year : 
Thou, only thou, art little here, 

Like worth unfriended or unknown, 
Yet to my British heart more dear 

Than all the torrid zone. 



9. Cowper, The Poplar Field. 1. Lady of the Lake, c. iv. 
2. Montgomery, The Daisy in India. 



THISTLE, ETC. 219 

Thistle. — 

3. The rough burr-thissle, spreading wide 

Amang the bearded bear, 
I turn'd the weeder-clips aside, 
And spared the symbol dear : 

Change. — 

4. Like April morning clouds, that pass, 
With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
And imitate, on field and furrow, 

Life's chequer'd scenes of joy and sorrow ; 

Like streamlet of the mountain north, 

Now in a torrent racing forth, 

Now winding slow in silver train, 

And almost slumbering on the plain ; 

Like breezes of the Autumn day, 

Whose voice inconstant dies away, 

And ever swells again as fast, 

When the ear deems its murmur past ; 

Thus various, my romantic theme 

Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 

Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 

Of Light and Shade's inconstant race ; 

Pleased, view the rivulet afar, 

Weaving its maze irregular ; 

And pleased, we listen as the breeze 

Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees : 

Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 

Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale ! 

Moonlight. — 

5. The Moon is in her summer glow, 
But hoarse and high the breezes blow, 
And, racking o'er her face, the cloud 
Varies the tincture of her shroud ; 

On Barnard's towers, and Tees's stream ; 
She changes as a guilty dream, 
When Conscience, with remorse and fear, 
Goads sleeping Fancy's wild career, 
Her light seems now the blush of shame, 
Seems now fierce anger's darker flame, 
Shifting that shade, to come and go, 
Like apprehension's hurried glow ; 
Then sorrow's livery dims the air, 
And dies in darkness, like despair. 



3. Burns' Poems. 4. Marmion, c. iii. 5. Rokeby, c. i. 



2 20 NATURE-STUDY. 

Such varied hues the warder sees, 

Reflected from the woodland Tees, 

* * * 

Hears, upon turret-roof and wall, 
By fits the plashing rain-drop fall. 
Snow. — 

6. It will not melt, like man, to time ; 
Tj^rant and slave are swept away, 
Less form'd to wear before the ray ; 
But that white veil, the lightest, frailest, 
Which on the mighty mount thou hailest, 
While tower and tree are torn and rent, 
Shines o'er its craggy battlement ; 

In form a peak, in height a cloud, 
In texture like a hovering shroud. 
Bright scene. — 

7. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene 
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, 

Oh ! no — it was something more exquisite still, 
'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were near. 
A Pass. — 

8. There's not a nook within this solemn Pass 
But were an apt confessional for One 
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, 
That life is but a tale of morning grass 
Withered at eve. 

Sounds. — 

9. Two voices are there ; one is of the Sea, 
One of the Mountains ; each a mighty voice : 

(Liberty) what sorrow would it be 
That Mountain floods should thunder as before, 
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, 
And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee ! 
Human Nature. — 

1. Three years she grew in sun and shower; 
Then Nature said, ' A lovelier flower 
On earth was never sown : 
This child I to myself will take ; 
She shall be mine, and I will make 
A lady of my own. 

6. Byron's Siege of Corinth. 7. Moore's Irish Melodies 
{Meeting of the Waters). 8. Wordsworth's Sonnets, The 
Trosachs. 9. Ibid., England and Switzerland. 1. Ibid., 
The Education of Nature. 



HUMAN NATURE, ETC. 22 1 

Myself will to my darling be 

Both law and impulse : and with me 

The girl, in rock and plain 

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower 

Shall feel an overseeing power 

To kindle or restrain. 

She shall be sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glee across the lawn 
Or up the mountain springs ; 
And her's shall be the breathing balm, 
And her's the silence and the calm 
Of mute insensate things. 

The floating clouds their state shall lend 

To her ; for her the willow bend ; 

Nor shall she fail to see 

E'en in the motions of the storm 

Grace that shall mould the maiden's form 

By silent sympathy. 

The stars of midnight shall be dear 

To her; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place 

Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 

And beauty born of murmuring sound 

Shall pass into her face.' 

Graveyard. — 

2. Where Claribel low-lieth 

The breezes pause and die, 
Letting the rose-leaves fall : 
But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, 
Thick-leaved, ambrosial, 
With an ancient melody 
Of an inward agony, 
Where Claribel low-lieth. 

At eve the beetle boometh 

Athwart the thicket lone : 
At noon the wild bee hummeth 

About the moss'd headstone : 
At midnight the moon cometh, 

And looketh down alone. 

Her song the lintwhite swelleth, 
The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth, 

2. Tennyson's Poems, Claribel. 



2 22 NATURE-STUDY. 

The callow throstle lispeth 
The slumbrous wave out-welleth, 

The babbling runnel crispeth 
The hollow grot replieth 
Where Claribel low-lieth. 

[A Dirge. Each verse alluding to subjects as follows : ] 

3. Shadows of the silver birk 

Sweep the green that folds thy grave. 

Light and shadow ever wander 
O'er the green that folds thy grave. 

Chaunteth not the brooding bee 
Sweeter tones than calumny ? 

The woodbine and eglatere 

Drip sweeter dews than traitor's tear. 

Rain makes music in the tree 
O'er the green that folds thy grave. 

Round thee blow, self-pleached deep, 
Bramble-roses, faint and pale, 
And long purples of the dale. 

The gold-eyed kingcups fine ; 
The frail bluebell peereth over 
Rare broidery of the purple clover. 

The balm-cricket carols clear 

In the green that folds thy grave. 

Wing. — 

4. ignorance is the curse of God, 

Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 

Groves. — 

5. Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never-sere, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; 
And, with forced fingers rude, 
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year : 

As killing as the canker to the rose, 

Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, 

Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 

When first the white-thorn blows ; 

Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear, 

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 

3. Tennyson's Poems, A Dirge; 4. King Henry IV., 
2nd Part. 5. Milton's Lycidas. 






GROVES. 223 



return, Sicilian Muse, 



And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 

Their bells, and flowrets of a thousand hues. 

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 

Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 

On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks, 

Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 

That on the green turf suck the honied showers, 

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 

The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 

The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 

The glowing violet, 

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 

And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 

And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, 

To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid lies. 



Lycidas- 



Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor ; 

So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed, 

And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 



Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 
While the still Morn went out with sandals gray ; 

And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 
And now was dropt into the western bay ; 
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue ; 
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. 

Morning, &c. — 

6. In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, 
And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire, 
The birds in vain their amorous descant join, 
Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. 
These ears, alas ! for other notes repine, 
A different object do these eyes require ; 

6. T. Gray, On the Death of R. West. 



2 24 NATURE-STUDY. 

My lonely anguish melts no heait but mine, 
And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; 
Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, 
And new-born pleasure brings to happier men ; 
The fields to all their wonted tribute bear, 
To warm their little loves the birds complain ; 
I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, 
And weep the more, because I weep in vain. 

The East. — 

7. If to fair India's coast we sail, 

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 
Thy breath in Afric's spicy gale, 

Thy skin is ivory so white. 
Thus every beautous object that I view 
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. 

Comparative. 
Deity. — 

8. Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art 

very great ; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. 

Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment : 
who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain : 

Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters : 
who maketh the clouds his chariot : who walketh 
upon the wings of the wind : 

Who maketh his angels spirits ; his ministers a flam- 
ing fire : 

Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should 
not be removed for ever. 



He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth : be toucheth 
the hills and they smoke. 

9. O thou unutterable Potentate ! 

Through nature's vast extent sublimely great ! 
Thy lovely form the flower-decked field discloses. 
Thy smiles are seen in nature's sunny face : 
Milk-coloured lilies and wild blushing roses 
Are bright with Thee : — Thy voice of gentleness 
Speaks in the light-winged whispering zephyrs playing 
Midst the young boughs, or o'er the meadows straying: 
Thy breath gives life to all ; below, above, 
And all things revel in Thy light and love. 

7. John Gay's Black-eyed Susan. 8. Psalm civ. 

9. Bowring's Russian Poets (Bobrov's Address to the Deity.) 



DEITY, ETC. 225 

But here, on these gigantic mountains, here 

Thy greatness, glory, wisdom, strength, and spirit, 

In terrible sublimity appear ; 

Thy awe-imposing voice is heard, — we hear it ! 

Th' Almighty's fearful voice ; attend, it breaks 

The silence, and in solemn warnings speaks : 

His the light tones that whisper midst the trees ; 

His, his the whistling of the busy breeze ; 

His, the storm-thunder roaring, rattling round, 

When element with element makes war 

Amidst the echoing mountains : on whose bound, 

Whose highest bound he drives his fiery car 

Glowing like molten iron ; or enshrin'd 

In robes of darkness, riding on the wind 

Across the clouded vault of heaven : — 

1. God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 
Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill, 
He treasures up his bright designs, 

And works his sovereign will. 
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, 

The clouds ye so much dread 
Are big with mercy, and shall break 

In blessings on your head. 

* * * * 

* * •* # 
The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower. 
Nature. — 

2. Now day conceals her face, and darkness fills 
The field, the forest, with the shades of night ; 
The gloomy clouds are gathering round the hills, 
Veiling the last ray of the lingering light, 

The abyss of heaven appears — the stars are kindling 

round ; 
Who, who can count those stars, who that abyss can 

sound ? 
Just as a sand 'whelm'd in the infinite sea ; 
A ray the frozen iceberg sends to heaven ; 
A feather in the fierce flame's majesty ; 
A mote, by midnight's maddened whirlwind driven, 

1. Cowper, Psalm xcvii. 2. Bowring's Russian Poets 
(Lomonsov's Evening Reflections.) 



2 26 " NATURE-STUDY. 

Am I, midst this parade : an atom, less than nought, 
Lost and o'erpower'd by the gigantic thought. 
* * * * 

Where are thy secret laws, O nature, where ? 
Thy north-lights dazzle in the wintry zone : 
How dost thou light from ice thy torches there ? 
There has thy sun some sacred, secret throne ? 
See in yon frozen seas what glories have their birth ; 
Thence night leads forth the day to illuminate the earth. 
#• * * * 

Who can reach or read yon milky way ? 

Creation's heights and depths are all unknown — un- 

trod— 
Who then shall say how vast, how great creation's 

God? 

Time. — 

3. The country cocks do crow ; the clocks do toll, 
And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 

And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, 

doth limp 

So tediously away. 

4. Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, 

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 
Whose action is no stronger than a flower? 
O how shall summer's honey breath hold out 
Against the wreckful siege of battering days, 
When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays ? 

5. Time, stern huntsman ! who can baulk, 
Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk; 

Sun.— 

6. Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist, 

7. [Tro.] I was about to tell thee, When my heart, 
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, 

* * * 

I have (as when the sun doth light a storm) 
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile : 

8. (Richard says, allusive to the traitorous Bolingbroke : ) 

— when the searching eye of heaven is hid 

3. King Henry V. 4. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 5. Scott's 
Hunting Song. 6. Cary's Dante, c. xii. 7. Troilus 

and Cressida. 8. King Richard II. 



MORNING, ETC. 227 

Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, 
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, 

But when from under this terrestrial ball, 
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, 
And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
Then murders 

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves. 

His treasons will sit blushing in his face, 
Not able to endure the sight of day. 

Morning. — 

9. That hair which shrouds 

Thy form of snow, 
Is like the clouds 
On Morning's brow. 

But Morning ne'er, 

In light array'd, 
Was half so fair 

As that fair maid. 

Wind, Air. — 

1. {The wicked) They are as stubble before the wind, 

and as chaff that the storm carrieth away. 

2. [The wicked) — are like the chaff which the wind 

driveth away. 

3. (The Greeks — in silence moved.) 

As when the south wind o'er the mountain tops 10 
Spreads a thick veil of mist, the shepherd's bane, 
But friendlier to the thief than shades of night, 
That a stone's throw the range of vision bounds; 
So rose the dust-cloud, as in serried ranks 
With rapid step they moved across the plain. 15 

4. As by the west wind driven, the ocean waves 
Dash forward on the far-resounding shore, 
Wave upon wave ; first curls the ruffled sea 
With whitening crests ; anon with thundering roar 
It breaks upon the beach, and from the crags 485 
Recoiling flings in giant curves its head 

9. Bowring's Poetry of Spain, {The Maid fairer than 
Morning. Anon. 1644.) 1 Job xxi. 18. 2. Psalm 
i. 4. 3. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. iii. 4. Ibid, 
b. iv. 

Q 2 



228 NATURE-STUDY. 

Aloft, and tosses high the wild sea-spray : 

(so ceaseless poured the hosts of Greece to the war.) 

5. (Trojans and Greeks — keeping watch.) 

As when two stormy winds ruffle the sea, 
Boreas and Zephyr, from the hills of Thrace 
With sudden gust descending ; the dark waves 
Beat high their angry crests, and toss on shore 
Masses of tangled weed ; such stormy grief 
Each Grecian breast with thoughts conflicting rent. 

6. as when the west wind drives 

The clouds, and battles with the hurricane, 

Before the clearing blast of Notus driven ; 350 

The big waves heave and roll, and high aloft 

The gale, careering, flings the ocean spray ; 
So thick and furious fell on hostile heads 
The might of Hector. 

7. As embers, at the breathing of the wind, 
Their flame enliven, so that light I saw 

* * grew 

More fair to look on. 

8. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
And as the air blows it to me again, 
Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
And yielding to another when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater gust ; 
Such is the lightness of you common men. 

9. But I was born so high, 

Our aiery [nest] buildeth in the cedar's top, 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 

1. God made 

The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure, 
Transparent, elemental air, diffused 
In circuit to the uttermost convex 
Of this great round. 

2. At length the freshening western blast 
Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears 
Above the brightening cloud appears ; 



5. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. x. 6. Ibid., b. xi. 
7. Cary's Dante (Paradise), c. xvi. 8. King Henry VI., 
3rd Part. 9. King Richard III. 1. Paradise Lost, b. vii. 
2. Marmion, c. vi. 



WATER, ETC. 229 

And in the smoke the pennons flew, 
As in the storm the white sea-mew. 
Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far, 
The broken billows of the war, 
And plumed crests of chieftains brave, 
Floating like foam upon the wave ; 

Water. — 

3. — man — drinketh iniquity like water. 

4. (Greeks and Trojans — meet in war.) 

As when, descending from the mountain's brow, 515 

Pour downward to the narrow pass, where meet 

Their mingled waters in some deep ravine, 

Their weight of flood, on the far mountain's side 

The shepherd hears the roar ; so loud arose 

The shouts and yells of those commingling hosts. 520 

5. as a stream, 

Swollen by the rains of Heaven, and from the hills 
Pours down its wintry torrent to the plain ; 

And many a blighted oak, and many a pine 
It bears, with piles of drift-wood, to the sea ; 570 

So swept illustrious Ajax o'er the plain, 
O'erthrowing men and horses ; 

6. Like as the waves towards the pebbled shore, 

So do our minutes hasten to their end ; 
Each changing place with that which goes before, 
In sequent toil all forwards do contend. 

Water, &c. — 

7. There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond. 

8. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : 

9. Glory is like a circle in the water, 
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 

Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 

1. [Tro.~] There my hopes lie drown'd, 

Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie indrench'd. 

2. The tear, down childhood's cheek that flows, 
Is like the dewdrop on the rose ; 

3. Job xv. 16. 4. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad. 
5. Ibid., b. xi. 6. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 7, 8. Merchant 
of Venice, 9. King Henry VI., 1st Part. 1. Troilus and 
Cressida. 2. Rokeby, c. iv. 11. 



230 NATURE-STUDY. 

When next the summer breeze comes by, 
And waves the bush, the flower is dry. 

3. When lovers meet in adverse hour, 

'Tis like a sun-glimpse through a shower, 
A watery ray, an instant seen 
The darkly closing clouds between. 

Fish.— 

4. As in a quiet and clear lake the fish, 

If aught approach them from without, do draw 
Towards it, deeming it their food ; so drew 
Full more than thousand splendours towards us. 

Rock. — 

5. Hector straight forward urged his furious course. 
As some huge boulder, from its rock bed 
Detached, and by the wintry torrent's force 160 
Hurled down the cliff's steep face, when constant rains 
The massive rock's firm hold have undermined ; 
With giant bounds it flies ; the crashing wood 
Resounds beneath it ; still it hurries on, 

Until, arriving at the level plain, 165 

Its headlong impulse checked, it rolls no more ; 
So Hector, 

6. I am sunk in care, to this degree, on account of the 

fair, 
Like unto a stone, submerged at the bottom of Oman's 
sea. ;,: 

7. I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 

A day in April never came so sweet, 
• To show how costly summer was at hand, 
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Winter. — 

8. His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
From eaves [thatch] of reeds : — 

Trees. — 

9. (The godly man.) And he shall be like a tree planted 

by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in 
his season. 

3. Scott's Rokeby, c. iv. 17. 4. Cary's Dante (Paradise ) , 
c. v. 5. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. xiii. 6. Raverty's 
Afghan Poetry. 7. Merchant of Venice. 8. The Tempest 
9. Psalm i. 3. 

* The Persian Gulf. 



TREES. 23I 

1. I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading 

himself like a green bay tree. 

2. The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree : he 

shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. 

3. (The wicked man.) He shall shake off his unripe 

grape as the vine, and shall cast off his flower as the 
olive. 

4. As when a man 

Hath reared a fair and vigorous olive plant, 

In some lone spot, by copious-gushing springs, 60 
And seen expanding, nursed by every breeze, 
Its whitening blossoms ; till with sudden gust 
A sweeping hurricane of wind and rain 
Uproots it from its bed, and prostrate lays ; 
So lay the youthful son of Panthous, slain 65 

By Atreus' son, 

5. Who loves of life the golden mean 
Escapes 

* # # * 

The giant pine-trees most invite 
The stormy winds ; with heaviest crash 
Fall proudest towers ; the mountain height 
The first attracts the lightning's flash. 

6. It is not growing like a tree 

In bulk, doth make men better be ; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere. 

A lily of a day 

Is fairer far in May, 
Although it fall and die that night — 
It was the plant and flower of Light. 

In small proportions we just beauties see ; 

And in short measures life may perfect be. 

7. That now he was 

The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, 
And suck'd my verdure out on't. 

8. [A Gardener. His servant observes on the state of 

England.] 

— our sea-walled garden, the whole land, 

Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers chok'd up, 

1. Psalm xxxvii. 35. 2. Ps. xcii. 12. 3. Job xv. 33. 

4. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. xvii. 5. Ibid., 
Translations (Horace, Od. ii. 10.) 6. Ben Jonson, True 
Growth. 7. The Tempest. 8. King Richard II., Act iii. sc. 4. 



232 NATURE-STUDY. 

Her fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, 
Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs 
Swarming with caterpillars. 

[The Gardener replies.] 

He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, 

Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 

The weeds, which his broad-spreading leaves did 

shelter, 
That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him up, 
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke ; 
I mean, the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 

[He proceeds.] 

We at this time of year 

Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees ; 

Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood, 

With too much riches it confound itself : 

Had he [the King] done so to great and growing 

men, 
They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste 
Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches 
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live. 

Rosk. — 

g. What's in a name ? That which we call a rose, 
By any other name would smell as sweet. 

Violet. — 

1. She dwelt among the untrodden ways 

Beside the springs of Dove ; 

;!< * ■* 

A violet by a mossy stone 

Half-hidden fr©m the eye ! 
— Fair as a star, when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

Plants. — 

2. The rush may rise where waters flow, 

And flags beside the stream ; 
But soon their verdure fades and dies 
Before the scorching beam. 

So is the sinner's hope cut off ; 

Or, if it transient rise, 
'Tis like the spider's airy web, 
From every breath that flies. 



9. Romeo and Juliet. 1. Wordsworth, The Lost Love. 
2. Anon. Job viii. 11 — 22. 



PLANTS. 233 

3. [The people.) 

Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, 
Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide. 

4. When the wicked spring as the grass, and when all 

the workers of iniquity do flourish ; it is that they 
shall be destroyed for ever. (7.) 

5. {The wicked.) Let them be as the grass upon the 

house-tops, which withereth afore it groweth up. 
Wherewith the mower filleth not his hand ; nor he 
that bindeth sheaves his bosom. 

6. For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man 

as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and 
the flower thereof falleth away : 
But the word of the Lord endureth for ever. (24, 25.) 

7. As sickly plants betray a niggard earth, 
Whose Darren bosom starves her gen'rous birth, 
Nor genial warmth, nor genial juice retains 
Their roots to feed, and fill their verdant veins : 
And as in climes, where winter holds his reign, 
The soil, though fertile, will not teem in vain, 
Forbids her germs to swell, her shades to rise, 
Nor trusts her blossoms to the churlish skies ; 

'1- i» »i- ^ 

But tyranny has fix'd her empire there, 

To check their tender hopes with chilling fear, 

And blast the blooming promise of the year. 

8. As flowrets, by the frosty air of night 

Bent clown and clos'd, when day has blanch'd their 

leaves , 
Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems ; * 

9. (Enobarbus says to Antony.) 

And, indeed, the tears live in an onion 

that should water this sorrow. 



3, 9. Antony and Cleopatra. 4. Psalm xcii. 5. Ps. 
cxxix. 6. 1 Peter i. 7. Gray, Alliance of Education 
and Government. 8. Cary's Dante (Hell), c. ii. 127-8. 

* Cary observes : — This simile is well translated by 
Chaucer, in Troilus and Cressida, b. ii. ; and imitated by 
many others — as Berni, Marino, and Spenser in his Fairy 
Queen. 



234 NATURE-STUDY. 

Snow, &c. — 

i. Drought and heat consume the snow waters : so 
doth the grave those which have sinned. (19.) 

2. Thus they, with cheering words, sustained the war : 
Thick as the snow-flakes on a wintry day, 

When Jove 

His snow-storm sends, and manifests his power : 305 

Hushed are the winds ; the flakes continuous fall, 

That the high mountain-tops, and jutting crags, 

And lotus-covered meads are buried deep, 

And man's productive labours of the field ; 

On hoary Ocean's beach and bays they lie, 310 

The approaching waves their bound ; o'er all beside 

Is spread by Jove the hoary veil of snow : 

So thickly flew the stones from either side, 

By Greeks on Trojans hurled, by these on Greeks. 

3. unknit that threat'ning unkind brow ; 

It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds ; 
* * * 

A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. 

Corn. — 

4. (The wicked are) — cut off as the tops of the ears of 

corn. 

5. As in the corn-land of some wealthy lord 
The rival bands of reapers mow the swathe, 
Barley or wheat ; and fast the trusses fall ; 75 
So Greek and Trojans mowed the opposing ranks. 

Poison, &c. — 

6. that which proves 

Strong poison unto me, another loves, 

And eats, and lives : Thus hemlock juice prevails, 
And kills a man, but fattens goats and quails. 

7. Leaves of wild olives yield a sweet repast 
To goats, to man a rough and bitter taste. 

Serpents. — 

8. They have sharpened their tongues HI e a serpent; 

adders' poison is under their lips. 

1. Job xxiv. 2. Lord Derby's Homer's Iliad, b. xii. 
3. Taming the Shrew. 4. Job xxiv. 5. Lord Derby's 
Homer's Iliad, b. xi. 6. Creech's Lucretius, b. iv. 7. Ibid, 
b. vi. 8. Psalm cxl. 3. 



REPTILES, ETC. 235 

Reptiles. — 

g. The o'erweening brood, 

That plays the dragon after him that flees, 
But unto such, as turn and show the tooth, 
Ay or the purse, is gentle as a lamb. 

Hornet. — 

1. The pain of illness affects not them who are in health : 
I will not disclose my grief but to those, 

Who have tasted the same affliction. 
It were fruitless to talk of an hornet to them, who 
never felt its sting. 

Birds. — 

2. E'en as the young stork lifteth up his wing 
Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit 
The nest, and drops it ; so in me desire 

Of questioning my guide arose, and fell. 

3. {He is willing to imitate, not contend with Epicurus.) 

For how can larks oppose 

The vigorous swans ? They are unequal foes ; 
Or how can tender kids with feeble force 
Contend in racing with the noble horse ? 

4. [Troilus says he's " mad in Cressid's love"] 

her hand ! 

In whose comparison all whites are ink, 
Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure 
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughman ! 

5. We bodg'd again ; as I have seen a swan 
With bootless labour swim against the tide, 

And spend her strength with over-matching waves. 

6. True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings. 
Animals. — 

7. To climb steep hills, 
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 

A full-hot horse ; who being allow'd his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. 

8. Even the beast, in the plough, goeth uniform to the 

furrow ; 
Wherefore then, quittest thou, thus sinfully, the 
Law's precepts ? 

9. Cary's Dante {Paradise), c. xvi. 1,8. Raverty's Afghan 
Poetry. 2. Cary's Dante (Purgatory), c. xxv. 3. Creech's 
Lucretius, b. iii. 4. Troilus andCressida. 5. Henry VI., 
3rd Part. 6. Richard III. 7. King Henry VIII. 



236 NATURE-STUDY. 

9. The hunting tribes of air and earth 
Respect the brethren of their birth ; 
Nature, who loves the claim of kind, 
Less cruel chase to. each assign'd. 
The falcon, poised on soaring wing, 
Watches the wild-duck by the spring ; 
The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair; 
The greyhound presses on the hare ; 
The eagle pounces on the lamb; 
The wolf devours the fleecy dam : 
Even tiger fell, and sullen bear, 
Their likeness and their lineage spare ; — 
Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan, 
And turns the fierce pursuit on man ; 
Plying war's desultory trade, 
Incursion, flight, and ambuscade, 
Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son, 
At first the bloody game begun. 

Reflective. 
Sun. — 

1. Thro' horn the sunbeams pass, and strike our eye, 
But water on the surface stays : 

2. Though the bat hideth himself from the light of the 

sun, 
In what manner doth the sun sustain injury there- 
from ? 

3. Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, 
Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; 

4. The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 

5. The sun, that now blesses our arms with his light, 

Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain ; 

6. If the thing we seek 

Be genuine knowledge, bear we then in mind 
How, from his lofty throne, the sun can fling 
Colours as bright on exhalations bred 

By weedy pool or pestilential, 

9. Scott's Rokeby, c. iii. 1. Creech's Lucretius, b. ii. 
2. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 3. Shakespeare's Sonnets. 
4. King Richard III., Act v. sc. 3. 5. Moore's Irish 
Melodies, Brien the Brave. 6. Wordsworth. 



MOON, STARS, ETC. 237 

As by the rivulet sparkling where it runs, 
On the pellucid lake. 
Moon. — 

7. When Phoebe doth behold 

Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
Decking with liquid pearls the bladed grass. 

Stars. — 

8. If of the smallest star in the sky 
We know not the dimensity ; 

If those pure sparks that stars compose, 
The highest human wit do pose ; 

How then, poor shallow man, canst thou 
The Maker of these glories know ? 
Space. — 

9. this mighty space 

Is infinite, and knows no lowest place, 
Nor uppermost; no bounds this All control, 
For that's against the nature of the whole. 

Lightning. — 

1. How lightning-wing'd do pleasures fly. 

2. Oh, it is excellent 

To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous, 

To use it like a giant. 

* * * * 

Merciful heaven ! 

Thou rather, with thy sharp, and sulphurous bolt 
Split'st the unwedgable and gnarled oak, 
Than the soft myrtle : 

3. Thoughts, from the tongue that slowly part, 
Glance quick as lightning through the heart. 

Cloud. — 

4. Macb. Can such things be, 

And overcome us like a summer's cloud, 

Without our special wonder? 

Light. — 

5. Thoughts come, as pure as light. 
Heat. — 

6. Thus heat and cold, and other qualities 
Affect the touch, whilst colours strike the eyes, 

7. Midsummer Night's Dream. 8. J. Howell, Shallowness 
of Human Knowledge. 9. Creech's Lucretius, b. ii. 1. Bow- 
ring's Poetry of Spain, Anon. 1595. 2. Measure for 
Measure. 3. Scott's Rokeby c. i. 4. Macbeth. 5. Moore's 
Irish Melodies, Take back the virgin page. 6. Creech's 
Lucretius, b. iv. 



2 3 8 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Odours the smell, vapours the taste, but none 
Invades another's right, usurps his throne, 
All live at peace, contented with their own. 
Wind. — 

7. Should a wise man utter vain knowledge, and fill 

his belly with the east wind ? 

8. The Arabian wind, whose breathing gently blows 
Purple to the violet, blushes to the rose, 

Did never yield an odour such as this : 
Why are you then so thrifty of a kisse, 
Authorized even by custom ? 

Morning. — 

9. Rich. See, how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! 

How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
Trimm'd like a yonker, prancing to his love ! 

K. Henry. This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
When dying clouds contend with glowing light ; 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. 

Night. — 

1. (In bed.) * * * * 
And keep my drooping eye-lids open wide, 
Looking on darkness which the blind do see. 

2. (Macbeth says.) Come, seeling night, 

Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
And, with thy bloody. and invisible hand, 
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 

Which keeps me pale ! Light thickens ; and the crow 
Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
Good things of day begin to droop and drowze ; 
While night's black agents to their preys do rouze. 

3. The silent hours steal on, 
And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 

4. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea. 

5. At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, 

I fly, 

To the lone vale we loved, 

7. Job xv. 2. 8. W. Habington, To Castara. 9. King 
Henry VI., 3rd Part. 1. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 2. Macbeth. 
3. King Richard III. 4. King Henry VI., 2nd Part. 
5. T. Moore's Poems. 



STREAMS, ETC. 239 

6. How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, 

And sunbeams melt along the silent sea. 

Streams. — 

7. 'Tis sweet to visit first 

Untoucht and virgin streams, and quench my thirst : 
I joy to crop fresh flowers, and get a crown 
For new and rare inventions of my own ; 

8. Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep. 

9. Comes next from Ross-shire and from Sutherland 

The horny-knuckled kilted Highlandman : 
From where, upon the rocky Caithness strand 
Breaks the long wave that at the Pole began. 

Water. — 

1. Thus little puddles that in streets do lie, 

Tho' scarce inch deep, admit the searching eye, 
To view as large a space, as earth from sky. 

Flint. — 

2. Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent, 
Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent. 

Scenery. — 

3. The hinds how bless'd who ne'er beguil'd 
To quit their hamlet's hawthorn-wild ; 

* * * * 

'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, 
While Nature's sweetest notes they hear ; 
On green untrodden banks they view 
The hyacinth's neglected hue ; 
In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, 
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds : 
And startle from her ashen spray, 
Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
Each native charm their steps explore 
Of Solitude's sequester'd store. 

4. Why do those cliffs or shadowy tint appear 

More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ? — 
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue. 

6. T. Moore, How dear to me the hour. 7. 1. Creech's 
Lucretius, b. iv. 8. King Henry VI., 2nd Part. 
9. W. Tennant's Anster Fair. 2. Scott's Rokeby, c. i. 
3. T. Warton, The Hamlet. 4. T. Campbell's Pleasures of 
Hope. 



240 NATURE-STUDY. 

5. Deem'st thou these sadden'd scenes have pleasure still, 
Lov'st thou through Autumn's fading realms to stray, 
To see the heath-flower wither'd on the hill, 

To listen to the wood's expiring lay, 
To note the red leaf shivering on the spray, 
To mark the last bright tints the mountain stain, 
On the waste fields to trace the gleaner's way, 
And moralize on mortal joy and pain ? — 
O ! if such scenes thou lovest, scorn not the minstrel 
strain. 

No ! do not scorn, although its hoarser note 
Scarce with the cushat's homely song can vie, 
Though faint its beauties as the tints remote 
That gleam through mist in autumn's evening sky, 
And few as leaves that tremble, sear and dry, 
When wild November hath his bugle wound ; 
Nor mock my toil — a lonely gleaner I, 
Through fields time-wasted, on sad inquest bound, 
Where happier bards of yore have richer harvest found. 
Seasons. — 

6. 1. Mark the soft-falling snow, 

And the diffusive rain ; 

To heaven, from whence it fell, 

It turns not back again ; 

But waters earth 

Through every pore, 

And calls forth all 

Its secret store. 

2. Array'd in beauteous green, 
The hills and valleys shine, 
And man and beast is fed 
By Providence divine ; 

The harvest bows 

Its golden ears, 

The copious seed 

Of future years. 

7. Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. 

Flowers — 

[Enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen as dead.] 

8. With fairest flowers, 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 

5. Lord of the Isles, c. i. 6. Doddridge, Effects of the 
Gospel. 7. King Richard III. 8. Cymbeline. 



241 

The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
'The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath ; the ruddock [red-breast] 

would, 

* * bring thee all this ; 

Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none 
To winter-ground thy corse. 

9. ; and good men's lives 

Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
Dying or ere they sicken. Act iv. sc. 3. 

i'i s*< >!' 5j< 

I have liv'd long enough : my May of life 

Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf. Act v. sc. 3. 

1. Not a tree, 

A plant, a leaf, a blossom, but contains 
A folio volume. We may read, and read, 
And read again, and still find something new. 

2. The morning flowers display their sweets, 

And gay their silken leaves unfold, 
As careless of the noon-tide heats, 
As fearless of the evening cold. 

Nipt by the wind's unkindly blast, 
Parch'd by the sun's directer ray, 
The momentary glories waste, 
The short-lived beauties die away. 

So blooms the human face divine, 
When youth its pride of beauty shows : 
Fairer than Spring the colours shine, 
And sweeter than the virgin-rose. 
Frost. — 

3. chaste as the icicle, 

That's curdled by the frost from purest snow, 
And hangs on Dian's temple : 

4. The snow fell on the mountains ; and covered the 
blue-bells and the hyacinths, * * 

On the tops of mountains the snow does not get 
lower ; where the rose-trees grow, the thorns do 
not get scarcer ; though clinging every night to my 
bosom, my sweetheart does not get less loving. 

9. Macbeth. 1. Hurdis. 2. S. Wesley, The young cut 
off in their prime. 3. Coriolanus. 4. Alex. Chodzko's 
Poetry of Persia. 

R 



242 NATURE-STUDY. 

Lambs. — ■ 

5. Say ye that know, ye who have felt and seen, 
Spring's morning smiles, and soul-enlivening green, 
Say, did you give the thrilling transport way ? 

Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play 

Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride, 

Or grazed in merry clusters by your side ? 

Ye who can smile, to wisdom no disgrace, 

At the arch meaning of a kitten's face ; 

If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, 

Excite to praise, or give reflection birth, 

In shades like these pursue your favourite joy, 

'Mid Nature's revels, sports that never cloy. 

Insects. — 

6. (Augur.) Four small but very active things.) 
Four things are little on earth, 

But wiser than the wisest. 

The ant race are a people without strength. 
Yet they prepare their meat in summer. 
The conies are a feeble race, 
Yet build their houses in the rocks. 
The locusts have no kings to rule them, 
Yet all of them go forth by bands. 
The lizard ; one may seize it with his hand, 
And yet it dwells in royal palaces. 

7. The bee is little among such as fly ; but her fruit is 

the chief of sweet things. 

8. From the green myriads in the peopled grass ; 
What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, 
The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam ; 
Of smell, the headlong lioness between, 

And hound sagacious, in the tainted green ; 
Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, 
To that which warbles through the vernal wood ! 
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine ! 
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line : 
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true 
From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew ? 



5. Bloomfield, Lrtw&s, 6. Herder's Spirit of Hebrew Poetry, 
z ^33- (Proverbs xxx.) 7. Ecclesiasticus xi. 3. 8. Pope's 
Essay on Man. 



CREATION. 243 

Meditative. 
Creation. — 

1. 1. Now let a spacious world arise, 
Said the Creator-Lord ; 
At once the obedient earth and skies 
Rose at his sovereign word. 

2. Dark was the deep ; the waters lay 

Confused, and drown'd the land, 
He call'd the light ; the new-born day 
Attends on his command. 

3. He bade the clouds ascend on high ; 

The clouds ascend, and bear 
A watery treasure to the sky, 
And float on softer air. 

4. The liquid element below 

Was gather'd by his hand ; 
The rolling seas together flow, 
And leave the solid land. 

5. With herbs and plants, a flowery birth, 

The naked globe He crown'd, 
Ere there was rain to bless the earth, 
Or sun to warm the ground.* 

2. Where sleepes the northe wind when the south inspires 
Life in the Spring, and gathers into quires 
The scattered nightingales ? Whose subtle ears 
Hearde first the harmonious language of the spheres ? 
Whence hath the stone magnetic force t'allure 
The enamoured iron ? From a seede impure, 
Or natural, did first the mandrake grow ? 
What power in the ocean makes it flow ? 
What strange material is the azure sky 
Compacted of ? of what is brightest eye, 
The ever-flaming sunne ? What people are 
In th' unknown world ? what worlds in every star ? — 
Let curious fancies at these secrets rove : 
Castara, what we know we'll practise, — Love. 
Nature. — 

3. each moss, 

Each shell, each crawling insect, holds a rank 
Important in the plan of Him who fram'd 
This scale of beings ; holds a rank, which lost, 

1. Watts, The Creation, Gen. i. 2. W. Habington, To 
Castara. 3. B. Stillingfleet, Economy of Human Nature. 

* Then follow, the skies, sun, moon, and stars ; fowl 
and fish ; lion, grazing beasts, &c. ; and finally Adam. 

R 2 



244 NATURE-STUDY. 

Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap 
Which Nature's self would rue. 

4. To think, that He, who rolls yon solar sphere, 
Uplifts the warbling songster to the sky ; 

To mark His presence in the mighty bow 
That spans the clouds, as in the tints minute 
Of tiniest flower ; to hear His awful voice 
In thunder speak, and whisper in the gale : 
To know and feel His care for all that lives ; — 
'Tis this that makes the barren waste appear 
A fruitful field, each grove a paradise. 

5. Like Nature's law, no eloquence persuades, 
The mute harangue our ev'ry sense invades ; 
Th' apparent precepts of th' Eternal Will, 
His ev'ry work, and ev'ry object fill. 

6. Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts, 

By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell, 
Where the poised lark his evening ditty chaunts, 
And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. 

7. Ah happy hills ! ah pleasing shade ! 

Ah, fields beloved in vain, 
Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 

A stranger yet to pain ! 
I feel the gales that from ye blow, 
A momentary bliss bestow, 

As waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
And, redolent of joy and youth, 
To breathe a second spring. 

8. By ceaseless action all that is subsists. 
Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel, 
That Nature rides upon, maintains her health, 
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads 

An instant pause, and lives but while she moves. 
Its own revolvency upholds the World: 

9. Away, away, from men and towns, 
To the wild woods and the downs — 
To the silent wilderness 

Where the soul need not repress 



4. Grahame, Study of Nature. 5. H. Brooke's Universal 
Beauty, 1735. 6. T. Smollett's Ode to Independence. 
7. T. Gray's Distant Prospect of Eton College. 8. Cowper, 
The Task, b. i. 9. Shelley, The Invitation. 



NATURE. 245 

Its music, lest it should not find 
An echo in another's mind, 
While the touch of Nature's art 
Harmonizes heart to heart. 

1. To Nature thus, with arms of love, 
Entranced I clung, till, fondly pressed, 
The Goddess seemed to breathe, to move, 
To warm beneath my poet-breast. 

With kindling fire she seemed to burn, 25 

To speak in accents soft and sweet ; 

My glowing kisses to return, 

Throb heart to heart, and beat to beat. 

Then grove and field with life were fraught ; 
With life the flashing waters sang ; 30 

Ev'n soulless things my feeling caught, 
And forth a new creation sprang. 

How swelled my bosom's narrow space ! 
A boundless world of thought was there ! 35 
I panted to begin my race, 
To see, to feel, to die, to dare ! 

How glorious seemed this world of ours, 
While but the opening buds were seen ! 
How few are now the expanded flowers, 
And ev'n those few, how poor and mean ! 40 

2. For oh, is it you, is it you, 
Moonlight, and shadow, and lake, 
And mountains, that fill us with joy, 
Or the Poet who sings you so well ? 
Is it you, O Beauty, O Grace, 

O Charm, O Romance, that we feel, 
Or the voice which reveals what you are ? 
Are ye, like daylight and sun, 
Shared and rejoiced in by all ? 
Or are ye immersed in the mass 
Of matter, and hard to extract, 
Or sunk at the core of the world 
Too deep for the most to discover ? 
Like stars in the deep of the sky, 
Which arise on the glass of the sage, 
But are lost when their watcher is gone. 



1. Lord Derby's Translations, Schiller, The Ideal. 
2. M. Arnold's Poems, The Youth of Nature. 



246 



NATURE-STUDY. 



' Race after race, man after man, 
Have dream'd that my secret was theirs, 
Have thought that I lived but for them, 
That they were my glory and joy. — 
They are dust, they are chang'd, they are gone. — 
I remain.' 
Scenery. — 

[ Scott impressed with the scenes of his childhood calling to 

mind.'] 

3. — feelings roused in life's first day. 

* * * * 

Then rise those crags, that mountain tower 
Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. 
Though no broad river swept along, 
To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 
Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, 
To prompt of love a softer tale ; 
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 
Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed ; 
Yet was poetic impulse given, 
By the green hill and clear blue heaven. 
It was a barren scene, and wild, 
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ; 
But ever and anon between 
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green : 
And well the lonely infant knew 
Recesses where the wall-flower grew 
And honeysuckle love to crawl 
Up the low crag and ruined wall. 
I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade 
The sun in all its rounds survey'd ; 
And still I thought that shatter'd tower 
The mightiest work of human power; 
Italy. — 

4. How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land, 
And scatterd blessings with a wasteful hand ! 
But what avail her unexhausted stores, 

Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores, 

With all the gifts that Heaven and earth impart, 

The smiles of nature, and the charms of art, 

While proud oppression in her valleys reigns, 

And tyranny usurps her happy plains ? 

The poor inhabitant beholds in vain 

The reddening orange and the swelling grain : 

3. Scott's Marmion, Introduction, c. iii. 4. J. Addison, 
Letter from Italy. 



MORN, ETC. 247 

Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines, 
And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines, 
Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst, 
And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst. 
Morn. — 

5. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 

6. The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his flame : 
But Thou, O God ! for ever shine the same. 

World. — 

7. How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
Fie on't ! O, fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden, 

That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, 

Possess it merely. Act i. sc. 2. 

Seasons. — 

8. From you have I been absent in the spring, 
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, 
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything ; 

That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. 
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 
Of different flowers in odour and in hue, 
Could make me any summer's story tell, 
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew. 
Nor did I wonder at the lilies white, 
Nor praise the deep vermilion of the rose : 
They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 
Drawn after you ; you, pattern of all those, 
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away, 
As with your shadow I with these did play. 

9. Sweet Spring, thou turn'st with all thy goodly train, 
Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow'rs, 
The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain, 

The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show'rs. 
Thou turn'st, sweet Spring ; — but ah ! my pleasant 

hours, 
And happy days with thee come not again. 
1. Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man ? 
Why doe thy cheekes curie, like the ocean, 
Into such furrows ? Why dost thou appeare 
So shaking like an ague to the yeare ? 
The sunne is gone. 

5, 7. Hamlet. 6. Gay's Contemplation on Night. 

8. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 9. W. Drummond {Haw- 
thovnden) Sonnets. 1. W. Habington, To Winter. 



248 NATURE-STUDY. 

2. Now the golden morn aloft 

Waves her dew-bespangled wing. 
With vermil cheek, and whisper soft, 

She woos the tardy spring : 
Till April starts, and calls around 
The sleeping fragrance from the ground, 
And lightly o'er the living scene 
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 

New-born flocks, in rustic dance, 

Frisking ply their feeble feet ; 
Forgetful of their wintry trance, 

The birds his presence greet : 
But, chief the skylark warbles high 
His trembling, thrilling ecstacy, 
And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 
Melts into air and liquid light. 

Yesterday the sullen year 

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ; 
Mute was the music of the air, 

The herd stood drooping by : 
Their raptures now that wildly flow, 
No yesterday, nor morrow know ; 
'Tis man alone that joy descries 
With forward and reverted eyes. 

Smiles on past misfortune's brow 

Soft Reflection's hand can trace, 
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw 

A melancholy grace ; 
While Hope prolongs our happier hour, 
Or deepest shades, that dimly lower 
And blacken round our weary way, 
Gilds with a gleam of distant day. 

Time.— 

3. Time of itself is nothing; but from thought 
Receives its rise, by labouring fancy wrought 
From things consider'd, whilst we think on some 
As present, some as past, or yet to come, 

No thought can think on Time, that's still eonfest, 
But thinks on things in motion, or at rest. 

4. When I do count the clock that tells the time, 
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night ; 
When I behold the violet past prime, 

And sable curls all silvered o'er with white, 

2. T. Gray, On Vicissitude. 3. Creech's Lucretius, b. 
4. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 



DECAY. 249 

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, 
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, 
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, 
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard ; 
Then of thy beauty do I question make, 
That thou among the wastes of time must go, 
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, 
And die as fast as they see others grow ; 

And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make 
defence, 

Save Love, to brave him, when he takes thee hence. 
Decay. — 

5. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
To the last syllable of recorded time ; 

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 

Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 

And then is heard no more : it is a tale 

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 

Signifying nothing. 

6. What does not fade ? the tower that long had stood 
The crush of thunder and the warring winds, 
Shook by the slow, but sure destroyer, Time, 
Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base. 

And flinty pyramids, and walls of brass, 
Descend : the Babylonian spires are sunk ; 
Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down. 
Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones, 
The tottering empires crush by their own weight. 
This huge rotundity where tread grows old ; 
And all those worlds that roll around the sun, 
The sun himself, shall die. 

7. This common field, this little brook, 

What is there hidden in these two, 
That I so often on them look — 

Oftener than on the heavens blue ? 
No beauty lies upon the field ; 
Small music doth the river yield ; 
And yet I look, and look again, 
With something of a pleasant pain. 



5. Macbeth. 6. Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health. 
7. Barry Cornwall, The Poet. 



250 NATURE-STUDY". 

'Tis thirty — can it be thirty years 

Since last I stood upon this plank, 
Which o'er the brook its figure rears, 

And watched the pebbles as they sank ? 
How white the stream ! I still remember 
Its margin glassed by hoar December, 
And how the sun fell on the snow : 
Ah ! can it be so long ago ? 

8. Unwatch'd, the garden bough shall sway, 

The tender blossom flutter down, 
Unloved that beech will gather brown, 
This maple burn itself way ; 

Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair, 
Ray round with flames her disk of seed, 
And many a rose-carnation feed 

With summer spice the humming air; 

Unloved, by many a sandy bar, 
The brook shall babble down the plain, 
At noon or when the lesser wain 

Is twisting round the polar star ; 

Uncared for, gird the windy grove, 

And flood the haunts of hern and crake ; 
Or into silver arrows break 

The sailing moon in creek and cove ; 

Till from the garden and the wild 
A fresh association blow, 
And year by year the landscape grow 

Familiar to the stranger's child ; 

As year by year the labourer tills 

His wonted glebe, or lops the glades ; 
And year by year our memory fades 

From all the circle of the hills. 

9. With blackest moss the flower-plots 

Were thickly crusted, one and all : 
The rusted nails fell from the knots 
That held the pear to the garden-wall. 

Weeded and worn the ancient thatch 
Upon the lonely moated grange. 



8. Tennyson's In Memoriam, 100. 9. Tennyson 
Poems (1865), Mariana. 



DECAY. 25I 

11. 

Her tears fell with the dews at even ; 

Her tears fell ere the dews were dried ; 
She could not look on the sweet heaven, 

Either at morn or eventide. 
After the flitting of the bats, 

When thickest dark did trance the sky, 

She * * * 

glanced athwart the gloomy flats. 

* * * 

in. 
Upon the middle of the night, 

Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: 
The cock sung out an hour ere light ; 
From the dark fen the oxen's low 
Came to her: 

Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn 
About the lonely moated grange. 

IV. 

About a stone-cast from the wall 

A sluice with blackened waters slept, 
And o'er it many, round and small, 

The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. 
Hard by a poplar shook alway, 

All silver-green with gnarled bark: 

For leagues no other tree did mark 

The level waste, the rounding gray. 
* # * 

v. 

And ever when the moon was low, 

And the shrill winds were up and away, 
In the white curtain, to and fro, 

She saw the gusty shadow sway. 
But when the moon was very low, 

And wild winds bound within their cell, 

The shadow of the poplar fell 
Upon her bed, across her brow. 



VI. 

All day within the dreamy house, 

The doors upon their hinges creak'd ; 

The blue fly sung in the pane ; the mouse 
Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, 

Or from the crevice peer'd about. 



252 NATURE-STUDY. 

VII. 

The sparrow's chirrup in the roof, 

The slow clock ticking, and the sound 

Which to the wooing wind aloof 
The poplar made, did all confound 

Her sense ; but most she loathed the hour 
When the thick-moted sunbeam lay 
Athwart the chambers, and the day 

Was sloping toward his western bower. 
Then, said she, ' I am very dreary, 

He will not come,' she said ; 
She wept, ' I am aweary, aweary, 
Oh God, that I were dead !' 

Death. — 

1. The breath of Time shall blast the flow'ry spring, 
Which so perfumes thy cheeke, and with it bring 
So dark a mist, as shall eclipse the light 

Of thy faire eyes in an eternal night. 

Subtilty. — 

2. Those odours too, whose smells delight 

And please the nose, are all too thin for sight. 

We view not heat, nor sharpest colds, which wound 

The tender nerves, nor can we see a sound. 

3. Thus odours rise from gums, a gentle breeze 
From rivers flow, and from the neighbouring seas 
Sharp salts arise, and fret the shores around ; 
Thus all the air is filled with murmuring sound ; 
And whilst we walk the strand, and pleas'd to view 
The wanton waves, or squeeze and mingle rue, 

Or salt or bitter tastes our tongues surprise ; 
So certain 'tis, that subtle parts arise 
From all, and wander in the lower skies ; 
These never cease to flow, because the ear, 
And eye, and nose, still smell, or see, or hear. 

Shapes. — 

4. Besides, consider men, or beasts, or trees, 
Or silent fish that cut the yielding seas, 

Or birds, or those that wanton o'er the floods, 
Or fill with tuneful sounds the list'ning woods ; 
Consider each particular, you'll find, 
How different shapes appear in every kind. 



1. W. Habington, To Castara ; On Age and Death. 
2. Creech's Lucretius, b. i. 3. Ibid., b. iv. 4. Ibid., b. ii. 



WATER. 253 

5. Besides, what various shapes in corn appear? 
A different size to every grain and ear ; 

And so in shells, where waters washing o'er 
With wanton kisses bathe the amorous shore. 
And therefore seeds, 

* * * * 

Must not be all alike, their shapes the same. 

Water. — 

6. Besides, that seas, that rivers waste, and die, 
And still increase by constant new supply, 

What need of proofs ? This streams themselves do 

show, 
And in soft murmurs babble as they flow. 
But lest the mass of water prove too great, 
The sun drinks some, to quench his natural heat ; 
And some the winds brush off, with wanton play 
They dip their wings, and bear some parts away : 
Some passes through the earth, diffused all o'er, 
And leaves its salt behind in every pore ; 
For all returns thro' narrow channels spread, 
And joins where'er the fountain shows her head : 
And thence sweet streams in fair meanders play, 
And thro' the valleys cut their liquid way ; 
And herbs, and flowers on every side bestow, 
The fields all smile with flowers where'er they flow. 

7. This glassy stream, that spreading pine, 

Those alders quiv'ring to the breeze, 

Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, 

And please, if anything could please. 

* * * * 

Me frightful scenes and prospects waste, 

Alike admonish not to roam ; 
These tell me of enjoyments past, 

And those of sorrows yet to come. 

8. Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream, 
When first on them I met my lover ; 
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream, 
When now thy waves his body cover ! 
For ever now, O Yarrow stream ! 
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow ; 
For never on thy banks shall I 
Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow. 



5. Creech's Lucretius, b. ii. 6. Ibid., b. v. 7. Cow- 
per, The Shrubbery., 8. J. Logan, The Braes of Yarrow. 



254 NATURE-STUDY. 

Herds, &c. — 

9. Happy the man, whose wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air 

In his own ground. 
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread. 
Whose flocks supply him with attire : 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter, fire. 

Trees. — 

1. Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, 

Hear the soft winds, above me flying, 
With all their wanton boughs dispute, 
And the more tuneful birds to both replying ; 
Nor be myself, too, mute. 

A silver stream shall roll his waters near, 
Gilt with the sunbeams here and there, 
On whose enamelled banks I'll walk, 

And see how prettily they smile, and hear 
How prettily they talk. 

2. The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclined 
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, 

The wandering streams, that shine between the hills, 

The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, 

The dying gales that pant upon the trees, 

The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; 

No more these scenes my meditation aid, 

Or lull to rest the visionary maid. 

3. When Fortune smil'd, and Nature's charms were new, 

I lov'd to see the oak majestic tower, — 
I lov'd to see the apple's painted flower, 

Bedropp'd with pencill'd tints of rosy hue ; 

Now, more I love thee, Melancholy Yew ! 

Whose still green leaves in solemn silence wave, 
Above the peasant's rude unhonour'd grave, 

Which oft thou moistenest with the morning dew. 

4. Reader ! hast thou ever stood to see 

The Holly-tree ? 
The eye that contemplates it well, perceives 

Its glossy leaves 
Order'd by an intelligence, so wise 
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. 

9. Pope, The Quiet Life. 1. Cowley, Solitude. 2. Pope, 
Eloisa to Abelard. 3. Dr. Leyden, To the Yew Tree. 
4. Dr. Southey, The Holly Tree. 



TREES, ETC. 25J 

Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, 

Wrinkled and keen ; 
No grazing cattle through their prickly round 

Can reach to wound ; 
But as they grow where nothing is to fear, 
Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear. * 
I love to view these things with curious eyes, 

And moralize : 

5. Round thy young front, all dark and sear, 
I twined e'en now the cypress wreath ; 
And paler than the paling year 

Thou bendest toward the bed of death. 

Ere yonder russet grass shall fade, 
Ere droop upon yon vine-clad height 
The last remains of lingering shade, 
Thy youth shall feel the nipping blight. 

And I must die ! the chilling blast 
Congeals me with its icy touch ; 
And ere my spring of life is past, 
I feel my winter's near approach. 

Flowers. — 

6. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, 
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ; 

A violet in the youth of primy nature, 
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, 
The perfume and suppliance of a minute : 
No more. 

7. Ask me why this flower does show 
So yellow-green, and sickly too ? 
Ask me why the stalk is weak, 
And bending, yet it doth not break ? 
I will answer, these discover 
What fainting hopes are in a lover. 

8. Sweet-scented flower ! who art wont to bloom 

On January's front severe, 
And o'er wintry desert drear 
To waft thy waste perfume ! 

5. Lord Derby's Translations, Millevoye, (French). 
6. Hamlet. 7. R. Herrick, The Primrose. 8. H. K. White, 
To the Rosemary. 

* See extract from Southey's Diary. Chap. ii. p. 73. 
No. 6. 



256 



NATURE-STUDY. 

Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, 
And I will bind thee round my brow ; 

And, as I twine the mournful wreath, 
I'll weave a melancholy song ; 
And sweet the strain shall be, and long, 

The melody of death. 

9. The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd 

Must fall the earliest prey ; 
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd, 

The leaves must drop away. 
And yet it were a greater grief 
To watch it withering leaf by leaf, 

Than see it pluck'd to-day: 
Since earthly eye but ill can bear 
To trace the change to foul form fair. 

* * * 

1. I remember, I remember 
The roses, red and white, 

The violets, and the lily-cups — 
Those flowers made of light ! 
The lilacs where the robin built, 
And where my brother set 
The laburnum on his birthday, — 
The tree is living yet ! 

The fir-trees dark and high ; 

I used to think their slender tops 

Were close against the sky : 

2. I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 
What wealth to me the show had brought, 
For oft, when on my couch 1 lie 

In vacant or in pensive mood, 
They flash upon that inward eye, 
Which is the bliss of solitude : 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 

3. There is sweet music here that softer falls 
Than petals from blown roses on the grass, 
Or night-dews on still waters between walls 
Of shadowy granite, in a glimmering pass ; 



9. Byron, Elegy on Thyrza. 1. T. Hood, Past and Present. 
2. Wordsworth, Daffodils. 3. Tennyson, The Lotus-Eaters. 
(Choric Song.) 



POETICAL TENDENCY. 257 

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, 
Than tir'd eyelids on tir'd eyes : 

* * # 

All its allotted length of days, 

The flower ripens in its place, 

Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, 

Fast rooted in the fruitful soil. 

All things have rest, and ripen towards the grave 
In silence ; ripen, fall,, and cease ; 

* 4f # 

To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, 
And tender curving lines of creamy spray. 

In bringing this large collection of examples to a 
close, we may observe that the passages embody- 
ing Association and Reflection are nearly equal 
in number, while those devoted to Comparison 
and Meditation are twice as many. Assuming 
that our selection has been fairly made, this 
shows how prone the poets are to seize on sub- 
jects giving scope generally to the comparative 
and meditative, in their observances of Nature. 
The arrangement adopted is not so rigorous but 
that some subjects might change places ; still, 
any order that sufficiently distinguishes one class 
of subjects from another fully attains the re- 
quired end. 

The general impression received from a peru- 
sal of these specimens is, that where they are 
somewhat imaginative they are not sufficiently 
so to take a higher rank than that allotted them, 
although in many instances they would be 
otherwise considered in ordinary poetical selec- 
tions. We have chosen, however, to make a 
distinction which we hope to show, satisfactorily, 
is neither arbitrary nor unnecessary. 



( *S* ) 



Chapter IX. 

Imagination and Fancy ; former poetical illustrations gene- 
rally deficient in both; Dr. Brown on Imagination; 
Professor Bain on poetical truth : Imagination and 
Fancy defined ; Poetical conception excels production ; 
sentiments of Humboldt, and Lord Macaulay; various 
illustrative poetical specimens ; remarks on the same. 

Many of the illustrative poetical specimens 
we have given might not inappropriately have 
found a place in the present chapter ; such, for 
example, as the descriptive pieces taken from 
Paradise Lost, and similar works of imagination, 
which are little other than fancy's sketches. 
Several pieces of this class will be given which 
in like manner might rank as Descriptive, rather 
than Imaginative pieces. But in the present 
part of our work we necessarily feel less re- 
stricted than in the previous classifications, which, 
indeed, we have adopted chiefly for convenience 
in future reference. We may now, therefore, 
introduce a more extended variety of topics and 
modes of treatment. 

Dr. Brown, in his Philosophy of the Mind, 
1846, treating on imagination, observes: Of 
the various images that exist in the mind of the 
poet, in those efforts of fancy which we term 
creative, having already some leading conception 
in his mind, he perceives the relation which certain 
images of the group bear to his leading conception; 
and these images instantly becoming more lively, 



NATURE : THE INSPIRER. 259 

and more permanent, the others gradually dis- 
appear, and leave those beautiful groups which 
he seems to have brought together by an effort 
of volition. Nature is to him, what it has been 
in every age, the only true and everlasting muse 
— the Inspirer — to whom we are indebted as 
much for everything which is magnificent in 
human art, as for those glorious models of 
excellence, which, in the living and inanimate 
scene of existing things, is presented to the 
admiration of the genius which Nature inspires. 

So much has been written on the subject of 
imagination by metaphysicians that we feel 
relieved from the necessity of any elaborate dis- 
cussion in these pages; a discussion which, 
indeed, would be scarcely pertinent to our pre- 
sent purpose. 

Professor Bain in concluding his treatise on 
The Senses and the Intellect, 1864, remarks that: 
there always will be a distinction between the 
degree of truth attainable by an artist, and that 
attained by a man of science. The poet cannot 
study realities with an undivided attention. 
His readers do not desire truth simply for its 
own sake ; and it cannot be supposed that the 
utmost plenitude of poetic genius will ever be 
able to represent the world faithfully, by dis- 
carding all devices in favour of flowery ornament 
and melodious metre. We ought not to look 
to an artist to guide us to truth ; it is enough for 
him that he does not mis-guide us. 

As regards the poet, he may frequently 
infringe truth to nature without censure; but 
he has not the same licence in reference to senti- 

s 2 



260 NATURE-STUDY. 

ment, whether moral or religious ; for while his 
deviations from exact truth in the one case may 
even be admired, and can never misguide our 
intelligence in respect to physical facts ; a similar 
deviation in the other case would be fraught 
with serious consequences to the well-being of 
society. 

Imagination appears to be analogous to Design 
in the originating of any poetical subject, inde- 
pendently of the colouring or treatment in 
language ; and Fancy, as distinguished therefrom, 
may be regarded as the colouring or language, 
apart from the design itself : the one compassing 
the subject as a whole, the other dealing with 
its detaih We may, therefore, find examples 
of Imagination, classical and severe, without any 
considerable display of Fancy ; and examples 
of Fancy, rich and glowing, without commen- 
surate Imagination ; or we may meet with 
passages in which there is a discordant mingling 
of both. To their harmonious union we owe 
the works of Homer and Milton, of Chaucer, 
Spenser, and Shakspeare. Fancy has been 
designated a lighter play of the imaginative 
faculty. But whatever definition we may be 
inclined to adopt, the impressions produced by 
Imagination and Fancy on our minds will remain 
as universal as their source. With Campbell 
we may declare : — 

Above, below, in ocean, earth, and sky, 
Thy fairy worlds, Imagination, lie. 

Next to the possession of Imagination, is the 
Poet's power of producing, through his work, 
on the minds of his readers, a strong and abiding 



CONCEPTION AND EXPRESSION. 26 1 

impress of this grand mental faculty. Poets 
often give expression to a sense of their own 
deficiencies in this respect, and perhaps no man 
of genius ever yet felt satisfied that he had in 
his works done justice to his own conceptions. 
In The Prelude, Wordsworth, having alluded to 
the influences of breezes, brooks, waves, and 
groves, exclaims : — 

Oh ! that I had a music and a voice 
Harmonious as your own, that I might tell 
What ye have done for me. 

Such are the difficulties experienced in embody- 
ing poetical conceptions by sensitive, intelligent 
minds, not averse to equally candid confessions, 
even when poets — 

as Prophets, each with each 

Connected in a mighty scheme of truth, 
Have each his own peculiar faculty, 
Heaven's gift, a sense that fits him to perceive 
Objects unseen before. 

Wordsworth concludes The Prelude : — 

Nature's secondary grace 

Hath hitherto been barely touched upon, 

The charm more superficial that attends 

Her works, as they present to Fancy's choice 

Apt illustrations of the moral world, 

Caught at a glance, or traced with curious pains. 

This latter topic — 

Apt illustrations of the moral world, 

would admit of considerable enlargement. 
Humboldt in his Cosmos observes that: As 
intelligence and forms of speech, thought and 
its verbal symbols, are united by secret and 
indissoluble links, so does the external world 
blend, almost unconsciously to ourselves, with 
our ideas and feelings. And Lord Macaulay in 
his Essays has very happily remarked that : 



262 NATURE-STUDY. 

Everything has passed away but the great 
features of Nature, and the heart of man, and 
poetry, among the miracles of art, of which it 
is the office to reflect back the heart of man and 
the features of Nature. 

No writer would be suspected of possessing 
imagination or fancy who should merely say : 
c Man is but flesh and blood, and like all animal 
nature, when overcome by age, disease, or 
famine, then will he become a sudden prey to 
death.' But we should judge differently of the 
language of Job : ' Although affliction cometh 
not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring 
out of the ground ; yet man is born unto trouble, 
as the sparks fly upward. Thou shalt come to 
thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn 
cometh in his season. ' 

The passages which follow are selected as 

examples of the predominance of Imagination 

and Fancy over mere description in poetical 

composition. 

Universe. 
Nature. — 

1. come, trace 

The epitaph of glory fled, 

For now the Earth has changed her face, 

A frown is on the Heaven's brow. 

We wander'd to the Pine Forest 

That skirts the ocean's foam ; 
The lightest wind was in its nest, 

The tempest in its home. 
The whispering waves were half asleep, 

The clouds were gone to play, 
And in the bosom of the deep 

The smile of Heaven lay ; 
It seem'd as if the hour were one 

Sent from beyond the skies, 

1. Shelley, The Recollection. 



UNIVERSE. 263 

Which scatter'd from above the sun 
A light of Paradise ! 

We paused amid the pines that stood 

The giants of the waste, 
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude 

As serpents interlaced, — 
And soothed by every azure breath 

That under heaven is blown, 
To harmonies and hues beneath 

As tender as its own : 
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep 

Like green waves on the sea, 
As still as in the silent deep 

The ocean-woods may be. 

How calm it was ! the silence there 

By such a chain was bound, 
That even the busy woodpecker 

Made stiller by her sound 
The inviolable quietness ; 

# * * * 

We paused beside the pools that lie 

Under the forest bough ; 
Each seem'd as 'twere a little sky 

Gulf'd in a world below; 
A firmament of purple light 

Which in the dark earth lay, 
More boundless than the depth of night 

And purer than the day — 
In which the lovely forests grew 

As in the upper air, 
More perfect both in shape and hue 

Than any spreading there. 

As a lizard with the shade 

Of a trembling leaf, 
Thou with sorrow art dismay'd ; 

* * # " * 

I love all that thou lovest, 

Spirit of Delight ! 
The fresh Earth in new leaves drest 

And the starry night ; 
Autumn evening, and the morn 
When the golden mists are born. 

I love snow and all the forms 
Of the radiant frost ; 

2. Shelley's Invocation. 



264 



NATURE-STUDY. 

I love waves, and winds, and storms, 

Everything almost 
Which is Nature's, and may be 
Untainted by man's misery. 

O Nature ! holy, meek, and mild, 
Thou dweller on the mountain wild ; 
Thou haunter of the lonesome wood ; 
Thou wanderer by the secret flood ; 
Thou lover of the daisied sod, 
Where'Spring's white foot hath lately trod ; 
Finder of flowers, fresh-sprung and new, 
Where sunshine comes to seek the dew ; 
* * * * 

Or lead me forth o'er dales and meads, 
E'en as her child the mother leads ; 
Where corn, yet milk in its green ears ; 
The dew upon its shot blade bears ; 
Where blooming clover grows, and where 
She licks her scented foot, the hare ; 
Where twin-nuts cluster thick, and springs 
The thistle with ten thousand stings ; 
Untrodden flowers and unprun'd trees, 
Gladden'd with songs of birds and bees. 

Say, ye gentle breezes, say, 
Round me why so gently breathing ? 
What impels thee, streamlet ! wreathing 
Through the rocks thy silver way ? 

Thou little woodland flower 
Who always art conceal'd, 
Through forest and through field 

I've sought thee many an hour, 



I love the birds that sing, 
The shade the branches fling, 
The golden-winged fly, 
As, pleased he springs on high. 

6. Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends ; 
Where roll'd the ocean, thereon was his home ; 
Where a blue sky and glowing clime extends ; 
He had the passion and the power to roam ; 
The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam, 

3. A Cunningham, Nature. 4. Bowring's Russian Poets, 
(Zhukovsky.) 5. Oxenford's French Songs, Emile Barateau. 
The Woodland Flower. 6. Childe Harold, c. iii. 



UNIVERSE. 265 

Were unto him companionship ; they spake 
A mutual language, clearer than the tome 
Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake 
For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lake. xiii. 
* * * * 

Above me are the Alps, 

The palaces of nature, whose vast walls 
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, 
And throned Eternity in icy halls 
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls 
The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! 
All that expands the spirits, yet appals, 
Gather around these summits, as to show 
How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man 
below. lxii. 

7. Thin, thin the pleasant human voices grow, 

And faint the city gleams ; 
Rare the lone pastoral huts ; marvel not thou ! 
The solemn peaks, but to the stars are known, 
But to the stars, and the cold lunar beams ; 
Alone the sun arises, and alone 

Spring the great streams. 

8. I. 
Nature, so far as in her lies, 

Imitates God, and turns her face 

To every land beneath the skies, 

Counts nothing that she meets with base, 
But lives and loves in every place. 
11. 

Fills out the homely quickset-screens, 
And makes the purple lilac ripe, 

Steps from her airy hill, and greens 

The swamp, where hums the dropping snipe, 
With moss and braided marish-pipe. 
in. 

And on thy heart a finger lays, 

Saying, ' beat quicker, for the time 

Is pleasant, and the woods and ways 
Are pleasant, and the beech and lime 
Put forth and feel a gladder clime.' 
Sun, &c— 

9. The pair of blessed luminaries move, 
Like the accordant twinkling of two eyes, 
Their beamy circlets, dancing to the sounds. 

7. Arnold's Eoems. 8. Tennyson, On a Mourner. 

9. Cary's Dante, c. xx. 



266 NATURE-STUDY. 

i. Blest power of sunshine ! genial day, 

What balm, what life is in thy way ! 
To feel thee is such real bliss, 
That had the world no joy but this, 
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — - 
It were a world too exquisite 
For men to leave it for the gloom, 
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb ! 

Moon, &c. — 

2. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 

Look, how the floor of heaven 

Is thick inlaid with patines* of bright gold ; 

There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, 

But in his motion like an angel sings, 

Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins. 

Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 

But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

3. Along a wide-spread pasture stray 
A flock of sheep all silver white ; 
And as we see them there to-day, 
So stood they erst in Adam's sight. 
(Their guardian) * * 
A shepherdess with silver horn. 

4. The rising moon has hid the stars ; 
Her level rays, like golden bars, 

Lie on the landscape green, 
With shadows brown between. 

And silver white the river gleams, 
As if Diana, in her dreams, 

Had dropt her silver bow 

Upon the meadow low. 



I. Lalla Rookh. 2. Merchant of Venice, Act v. sc. 1. 
3. Lambert's Poems from the German. {Schiller.) 4. H.W. 
Longfellow's Endymion. 



* A flat dish for administering the Eucharist, 



EARTH, ETC. 267 

Earth. — 

5. There stands a spacious residence 

On viewless columns strong, 
None absent there, none go from thence, 
Yet there none tarry long. 
* * * 

It has a roof of crystal sheen, 

One gem of lustre rare ; 
But never was the Builder seen 

Who rear'd the fabric fair. 

Stars. — 

6. 1. When marshall'd on the nightly plain, 

The glittering host bestud the sky ; 
One star alone, of all the train, 
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 

2. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, 

From every host, from every gem ; 
But one alone the Saviour speaks, 
It is the star of Bethlehem. 

3. Once on the raging seas I rode, 

The storm was loud, — the night was dark, 
The ocean yawn'd — and rudely blow'd 
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark. 

4. Deep horror then my vitals froze ; 

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem ; 
When suddenly a star arose, 
It was the star of Bethlehem. 

5. It was my guide, my light, my all, 

It bade my dark foreboding cease ; 
And through the storm and danger's thrall, 
It led me to the port of peace. 

6. Now safely moor'd — my perils o'er, 

I'll sing, first in night's diadem, 
For ever and for evermore, 

The star ! — the Star of Bethlehem ! 

7. Bright Star ! would I were stedfast as thou art — 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 

Like nature's patient sleepless Eremite, 



5. Schiller, The Earth and Sky. 6. H. K. White, 
The Star of Bethlehem. 7. J. Keats' Poems. 



268 NATURE-STUDY. 

8. Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even, 

Companion of retiring day, 
Why at the closing gates of heaven 
Beloved Star, dost thou delay ? 

So fair thy pensile beauty burns 

When soft the tear of twilight flows ; 

So due thy plighted love returns 

To chambers brighter than the rose ; 

To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love 
So kind a star thou seem'st to be, 

Sure some enamour'd orb above 

Descends and burns to meet with thee ! 

9. [Thou art, oh God,] 

When night, with wings of starry gloom, 
O'ershadows all the earth and skies. 

1. Ye stars ! which are the poetry of Heaven ! 

* £ * * 

ye are 

A beauty and a mystery, 

Morning. — 

2. Light hath no tongue, but is all eye ; 

3. When daylight was yet sleeping under the billow. 

4. The morn is up again, the dewy morn, 

With breath all incense., and with cheek all bloom, 
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, 
And living, as if earth contain'd no tomb, — 
And glowing into day : we may resume 
The march of our existence : xcviii. 

5. [Such was the golden hour that broke 
Upon the world, when Hinda woke 
From her long trance, ]* 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone ; 
When warring winds have died away, 
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 

8. T. Campbell, To the Evening Star. 9. Moore's 
Poems, Sacred Songs. 1. Byron's Poems. 2. Dr. J. 
Donne, The break of day. 3. Moore's Irish Melodies, III 
Omens. 4. Childe Harold, c. iii. 5. Lalla Rookh. 

* These lines conclude those following. 



MORNING, ETC. 269 



Fresh as if Day again were born, 
Again upon the lap of Morn ! — 
When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will, 
Hang floating in the pure air still, 
Filling it all with precious balm, 
In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 
And every drop the thunder-showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning-gem 
Whose liquid flame is born of them ! 

When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, 
There blow a thousand gentle airs, 
And each a different perfume bears, — 

As if the loveliest plants and trees 
Had vassal breezes of their own 
To watch and wait on them alone, 
And waft no other breath than theirs : 
When the blue waters rise and fall, 
In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 
And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, 
Too newly to be quite at rest ! 
Calm. — 

6. All heaven and earth are still : From the high host 
Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast 

All is concenter'd in a life intense. lxxxix. 

7. ' Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white ; 

Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; 
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font : 
The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. 

Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, 
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. 

Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, 
And all thy heart lies open unto me. 

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves 
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. 

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, 
And slips into the bosom of the lake : 
So fold thyself, my dearest, and so slip 
Into my bosom and be lost in me.' 



6. Byron's Childe Harold, c. iii. 7. Tennyson, The 
Princess. 



2 70 NATURE-STUDY. 

8. To tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
To leafy shore and sun-bright seas, 
That lay beneath the mountain height, 
Had been a fair enchanting sight. 
'Twas one of those ambrosial eves 

A day of storm so often leaves 

At its calm setting — when the West 

Opens her golden bowers of rest, 

And a moist radiance from the skies 

Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 

Of some meek penitent, whose last, 

Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 

And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 

Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven ! 

'Twas stillness all — the winds that late 

Had rush'd through Kerman's almond groves, 
And shaken from her bowers of date 

That cooling feast the traveller loves, 
Now lull'd to languor, scarcely curl 

The Green-Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream. 
And her fair islets, small and bright, 

With their green shores reflected there, 
Look like those Peri-isles of light, 

That hung by spell-work in the air. 

Rainbow. — 

8*. There is a bridge that's built of pearls, 
Across a grey sea arching fair ; 
Rear'd in a trice, where giddy whirls 
The brain, it mounts the realms of air. 

9. Sisters six without a brother 

Born of wondrous parents we ; 

Grave and solemn is our mother, 

And our father blythe and free. 

* * * * 

Caves where darkness dwells forsaking, 

Where 'tis day we love to be, 

* * * * 

Shines the king in pomp and splendour, 
All his glory we bestow. 



8. Lalla Rookh. 8*. Lambert's Poems from the German 
Schiller, The Rainbow. 9. Ibid. The Colours. 



SOUND, ETC. 271 

Sound. — 
10. That strain again ; — it had a dying fall : 

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving odour. 

1. Hark ! Music speaks from out the woods and streams ; 

Amidst the winds, amidst the harmonious rain ; 
It fills the voice with sweets, the eye with beams ; 
It stirs the heart ; it charms the sting from pain. 

2. Each sound, too, here to languishment inclined, 
Lulled the weak bosom, and induced ease ; 
Aerial music in the warbling wind, 

At distance rising oft, by small degrees, 
Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees 
It hung, and breathed such soul-dissolving airs 
As did, alas ! with soft perdition please : 
Entangled deep in its enchanting snares, 
The listening heart forgets all duties and all cares. 
* * * * 

Near the pavilions where we slept, still ran 
Soft-tinkling streams, and dashing waters fell, 
And sobbing breezes sighed, and oft began 
(So worked the wizard,) wintry storms to swell, 
As heaven and earth they would together mell : 

seemed to call 

The demons of the tempest, growling fell, 
Yet the least entrance found they none at all, 
Whence sweeter grew our sleep, secure in massy hall. 

Night. — 

3. The day is done, and the darkness 

Falls from the wings of Night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight. 

Clouds. — 

1*. Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish ; 
A vapour, sometimes like a bear, or lion, 

a pendant rock, 

* * * * * * 

That which is now a horse, even with a thought, 
The rack dislimns ; and makes it indistinct, 
As water is in water. 



10. Twelfth Night. 1. B. Cornwall, Music. 2. Thom- 
son's Castle of Indolence. 3. H. W. Longfellow's Poems, 
The day is done. 1*. Antony and Cleopatra, Act. iv. sc. 12. 



272 NATURE-STUDY. 

2 I sift the snow on the mountains below, 

And their great pines groan aghast ; 
And all the night, 'tis my pillow white, 
While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
Fire. — 

3. Thus is one heat from many embers felt. 

4. In a house of stone I dwell, 

Where I lie conceal'd, and sleep, 
Till from out my quiet cell 

Called by clash of steel, I leap. 
Lightning. — 

5. There's one among the serpent breed, 

Engender'd not on earth, 
. Without a rival in its speed, 
A rival in its wrath. 

Upon its prey with fearful cry 

It darts with crushing force ; 
And stricken low, together lie 

The rider and his horse. 
* * * 

Once menaces the monster dire, 

And threatens not again, 
Dying itself in its own fire, 

For as it slays 'tis slain. 
Rainbow. — 

6. Triumphant arch, that fill'st the sky, 

When storms prepare to part, 
I ask not proud philosophy 
To teach me what thou art. 

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight, 

A midway station given, 
For happy spirits to alight 

Betwixt the earth and heaven. 

Can all that optics teach, unfold 

Thy form to please me so, 
As when I dreamt of gems and gold, 

Hid in thy radiant bow ? 

When science from Creation's face, 

Enchantment's veil withdraws, 
What lovely visions yield their place 

To cold material laws ! 

2. Shelley, The Cloud. 3. Cary's Dante (Paradise), c. xix. 
4. 5. Lambert's Poems from the German, (Schiller.) 6. T. 
Campbell, To the Rainbow. 



SOUNDS. 273 

Sounds. — 

3. {the Guitar,) had learnt all harmonies 

Of the plains and of the skies, 

Of the forests and the mountains, 
And the many-voiced fountains ; 
The clearest echoes of the hills, 
The softest notes of falling rills, 
The melodies of birds and bees, 
The murmuring of summer seas, 
And pattering rain, and breathing dew, 
And airs of evening ; and it knew 
That seldom-heard mysterious sound 
Which, driven on its diurnal round, 
As it floats through boundless day, 
Our world enkindles on its way. 

4. Like the gale, that sighs along 

Beds of oriental flowers, 
Is the grateful breath of song, 

That once was heard in happier hours ; 
Fill'd with balm, the gale sighs on, 

Though the flowers have sunk in death ; 
So, when pleasure's dream is gone, 

Its memory lives in Music's breath ! 

5. Oh Music ! thy celestial claim 
Is still resistless, still the same ; 

And, faithful as the mighty sea 
To the pale star that o'er its realm presides, 
The spell-bound tides 
Of human passion rise and fall for thee ! 

6. And that eternal, saddening sound 
Of torrents in the glen beneath, 

As 'twere the ever-dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death. 

7. There seems a floating whisper on the hill ; 
But that is fancy, for the starlight dews 

All silently their tears of love instil, 
Weeping themselves away, till they infuse 
Deep into nature's breast, the spirit of her hues. 

Water. — 

8. From centre to the circle, and so back 
From circle to the centre, water moves 

3. Shelley, To a lady with a Guitar. 4. Moore's Irish 
Melodies. On Music. 5. Ibid., A melologue upon National 
Music. 6. Ibid., Lalla Rookh. 7. Byron's Childe Harold, 
c. iii. 87. 8. Cary's Dante {Paradise), c. xiv. 

T 



2 74 NATURE-STUDY. 

In the round chalice, even as the blow 

Impels it, inwardly, or from without. 

Such was the image glanc'd into my mind, 

As the great spirit 

Water. — 

9. Ye laughing streamlets, say, 

Sporting with the sands, where do ye wend your way 

From the fiow'rets flying, 

To rocks and caverns hieing : 

When ye might sleep in calmness and in peace, 

Why hurry thus in wearying restlessness ? 

1. When bright and gay the waters roll 

In crystal rivers to the sea, 
'Midst shining pearls, they take, my soul ! 

Their sweetest, loveliest smile from thee ; 
And when their dimpling currents flow, 
They imitate thy laughing brow. 

When morning from its dusky bed 

Awakes with cold and slumbering eye, 
• Ere yet he wears his tints of red, 
He looks to see if thou art nigh, 
To offer thee a diadem 
Of every ruby, — every gem. 

When spring leads on the joyous sun 
He brightens on thy eyes, and takes 

A nobler lustre, — when the dun 
And darksome April first awakes, 

And gives his better smiles to May, 

He keeps for thee his fairest day. 

2. The moving waters at their priestlike task 

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors : — 
Ocean. — 

3. Time writes no wrinkles on thine azure brow — 

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 182. 
* * # * 

Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime. 183 

4. - a matchless cataract, 

Horribly beautiful ! 72 



9. Bowring's Poetry of Spain (Francisco de Borja, 1663.) 
1. Ibid., Suva's Smile. 2. Keats' Poems. 3. Byron's Childe 
Harold, c. iv. 4. Ibid., c. iv. 



OCEAN. 275 

5. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, 

A rivulet then a river : 
No where by thee my steps shall be, 
For ever and for ever. 

But here will sigh thine alder tree, 

And here thine aspen shiver ; 
And here by thee will hum the bee, 

For ever and for ever. 

A thousand suns will stream on thee, 

A thousand moons will quiver ; 
But not by thee my steps shall be, 

For ever and for ever. 

6. 'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies. 

I come from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally 
And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down a valley. 

By thirty hills I hurry down, 

Or slip between the ridges, 
By twenty thorps, a little town, 

And half a hundred bridges. 

Till last by Philip's farm I flow, 

To join the brimming river, 
For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 

* * * * 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I stride by hazel covers ; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 

Among my skimming swallows ; 
I make the netted sunbeam dance 

Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses ; 
I linger by my shingly bars ; 

I loiter round my cresses ; 

And out again I curve and flow 

To join the brimming river, 
For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 

5. Tennyson, A Farewell. 6. Ibid., The Brook. 

T 2 



276 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Isle. — 

7. There was a little lawny islet 
By anemone and violet, 

Like mosaic, paven : 
And its roof was flowers and leaves 
Which the summer's breath enweaves, 
Where no sun, nor showers, nor breeze 
Pierce the pines and tallest trees, 

Each a gem engraven. 
Girt by many an azure wave 
With which the clouds and mountains gave 

A lake's blue chasm. 

Seasons. — 

(Imagined state of climate on earth immediately after the 
fall.) 

8. Now from the north 

Of Norumbega and the Samoed shore, 
Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, 
And snow, and hail, and stormy gust, and flaw, 
Boreas, and Caecias, and Argestes loud, 

And Thrascias rend the woods, and seas upturn ; 
With adverse blast upturns them from the south 
Notus, and Afer black with thund'rous clouds 
From Serraliona ; thwart of these as fierce 
Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds, 
Urus and Zephyr with their lateral noise, 
Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began 
Outrage from lifeless things ; 

9. So forth issued the seasons of the year ; 

First lusty spring, all dight in leaves and flowers 
That freshly budded, and new blooms did bear, 
In which a thousand birds had built their bowers, 

Then came the jolly summer, being dight 
In a thin silken cassock coloured green, 
* * * * 

Then came the autumn, all in yellow clad, 
-:< * * * 

Laden with fruits that made him laugh, — 

Lastly came winter, clothed all in frieze, 
Clattering his teeth for cold that did him chill. 

7. Shelley, The Isle. 8. Earadise Lost. 9. Spenser's 
Fairy Queen, Procession of the Seasons. 



SEASONS. 277 

10. I love to go in the capricious days 

Of April and hunt violets ; when the rain 
Is in the blue cups trembling, and they nod 
So gracefully to the kisses of the wind. 
It may be deemed unmanly, but the wise 
Read Nature like the manuscript of Heaven, 
And call the flowers its poetry. 

1. When youthful spring around us breathes, 
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh. 

2. 1 come, I come ! ye have call'd me long, 

I come o'er the mountains with light and song ! 
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, 
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, 
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass, 
By the green leaves opening as I pass. 

I have breath'd on the South, and the chesnut-flowers, 
By thousands, have burst from the forest-bowers, 
And the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes, 
Are veil'd with wreaths on Italian plains. 
— But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom, 
To speak of the ruin or the tomb ! 

I have pass'd o'er the hills of the stormy North, 

And the larch has hung all his tassels forth, 

And the fisher is out on the sunny sea, 

And the rein-deer bounds through the pasture free, 

And the pine has a fringe of softer green, 

And the moss looks bright, where my step has been. 

3. Hang all your leafy banners out ! 

4. When on the boughs the purple buds expand, 

The banners of the vanguard of the spring, 
And rivulets, rejoicing, rush and leap, 
And wave their fluttering signals from the steep. 

5. The brightest hour of unborn Spring 
Through the winter wandering, 
Found, it seems, the halcyon morn 
To hoar February born ; 



to. N. P. Willis, April. 1. Moore's Sacred Songs. 
2. Mrs. Hemans, The Voice of Spring. 3. H. W. Long- 
fellow, Daybreak. 4. Ibid., The Poet's Tale. 5. Shelley, 
The Invitation. 



278 



NATURE-STUDY. 

Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth, 

It kiss'd the forehead of the earth, 

And smiled upon the silent sea, 

And bade the frozen streams be free, 

And waked to music all their fountains, 

And breathed upon the frozen mountains, 

And like a prophetess of May 

Strew'd flowers upon the barren way, 
* * * 

Away, away 

To the wild wood and the downs — 
To the silent wilderness 
Where the soul need not repress 
Its music, lest it should not find 
An echo in another's mind, 
While the touch of Nature's art 
Harmonizes heart to heart. 

Radiant Sister of the Day 
Awake ! arise ! and come away ! 
To the wild woods and the plains, 
To the pools where winter rains 
Image all their roof of leaves, 
Where the pine its garland weaves 
Of sapless green, and ivy dun, 
Round stems that never kiss the sun, 
Where the lawns and pastures be 
And the sandhills of the sea, 
Where the melting hoar-frost wets 
The daisy-star that never sets, 
And wind-flowers and violets 
Which yet join not scent to hue 
Crown the pale year weak and new ; 
When the night is left behind 
In the deep east, dim and blind, 
And the blue noon is over us, 
And the multitudinous 
Billows murmur at our feet, 
Where the earth and ocean meet, 
And all things seem only one 
In the universal Sun. 

6. O Winter, ruler of the inverted year, 

Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fill'd, 
Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
Fringed with a beard made white with other snows 

6. Cowper, The Task, b. iv. 



SEASONS. 279 

Than those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in clouds, 

A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne 

A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, 

But urged by storrns along its slippery way, 

I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 

And dreaded as thou art ! Thou hold'st the sun 

A pris'ner in the yet undawning east, 

Short'ning his journey between morn and noon, 

And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 

Down to the rosy west ; 

7. When first the fiery-mantled Sun 

His heavenly race began to run, 
Round the earth and ocean blue 
His children four the seasons flew. 
First in green apparel dancing, 

The young Spring smiled with angel grace ; 
Rosy Summer next advancing 

Rush'd into her sire's embrace : — 
Her bright-hair'd sire, who bade her keep 

For ever nearest to his smiles, 
On Calpe's olive-shaded steep 

On India's citron-cover'd isles. 
More remote and buxom-brown, 

The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne ; 
A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown, 

A ripe sheaf bound her zone. 

But howling Winter fled afar, 

To hills that props the polar star, 

* * * 

Round the shore where loud Lofoden 
Whirls to death the roaring whale, 

* * * 

Deflowering Nature's grassy robe, 
And trampling on her faded form : — 

Milder yet thy snowy breezes 

Pour on yonder tented shores, 
Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes, 

Or the dark-brown Danube roars. 

8. I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way 

Bare Winter suddenly was chang'd to Spring, 
And gentle odours led my steps astray, 
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring 

7. T. Campbell's Ode to Winter, (Germany, 1800.) 
Shelley, >4 Dream of the Unknown. 



28o NATURE-STUDY. 

Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay 

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling 
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, 
But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in 
dream. 

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, 

Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth, 
The constellated flower that never sets ; 

Faint oxlips ; tender blue-bells, at whose birth 
The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that wets 
It's mother's face with heaven-collected tears, 
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears. 

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, 

Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May, 

And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine 
Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day ; 

And wild roses, and ivy serpentine 

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; 

And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, 

Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold. 

And nearer to the river's trembling edge 

There grow broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with 
white. 

And starry river-buds among the sedge, 
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, 

Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge 

With moonlight beams of their own watery light ; 

And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green 

As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. 

Methought that of these visionary flowers 
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way 

That the same hues, which in their natural bowers 
Were mingled or opposed, the like array 

Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours 
Within my hand, — and then, elate and gay, 

I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come 

That I might there present it — O ! to Whom ? 

Storm. — 

9. let fall 

Your horrible pleasure. 

* * * * 

the pelting of this pitiless storm. 



9. King Lear, Act iii. sc. 2. 



THE UNSTABLE. 28 I 

Unstable. — 

1. The waters are flashing, 
The white hail is dashing, 
The lightnings are glancing, 
The hoar-spray is dancing — 

Away ! 
The whirlwind is rolling, 
The thunder is tolling, 
The forest is swinging, 
The minster bells ringing — 

Come away ! 
The earth is like ocean, 
Wreck-strewn and in motion : 
Bird, beast, man and worm, 
Have crept out of the storm — 

Come away ! 

* >!' * 

While around the lashed ocean, 
Like mountains in motion, 
Is withdrawn and uplifted, 
Sunk, shattered, and shifted, 
To and fro. 

2. Swifter far than summer's flight, 
Swifter far than youth's delight, 
Swifter far than happy night, 

Art thou come and gone ; 
As the earth when leaves are dead, 
As the night when sleep is sped, 
As the heart when joy is fled, 

I am left lone, lone. 
The swallow Summer comes again, 
The owlet Night resumes her reign, 
But the wild swan Youth is fain 

To fly with thee, false as thou. 
My heart each day desires the morrow, 
Sleep itself is turned to sorrow, 
Vainly would my winter borrow 

Sunny leaves from any bough. 
Lilies for a bridal bed, 
Roses for a matron's head, 
Violets for a maiden dead, 

Pansies let my flowers be ; 
On the living grave I bear, 
Scatter them without a tear, 
Let no friend, however dear, 

Waste one hope, one fear for me. 

1. Shelley, The Fugitives. 2. Ibid., A Lament. 



282 NATURE-STUDY. 

3. I know that all beneath the moon decays. 

4. These our actors, 

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air : 

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve ; 
And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind : We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

4*. Mercutio. True, I talk of dreams ; 

Which are the children of an idle brain. 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
And, being anger'd, puffs, away from thence. 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 

5. A court is like a garden shade ; 

The courtiers and the flowers that rise 
Too suddenly, 'neath changeful skies, 

Oft sink into the dust and fade. 

In short, we all are like thy flower, 
And ever, both in weal and woe, 
With strange perverseness, we bestow 

Our thoughts on time's swift-fleeting hour. 

1. 

6. Tell me where's the violet fled, 

Late so gayly blowing ; 
Springing under Flora's tread, 

Choicest sweets bestowing. 
Swain, the vernal scene is o'er, 
And the violet blooms no more I 

11. 
Say, where hides the blushing rose, 

Pride of fragrant morning ; 
Garland meet for Beauty's brows ; 

Hill and dale adorning. 



3. Drummond of Hawthornden, Sonnet. 4. The Tempest. 
4.* Romeo and Juliet. 5. Bowring's Batavian Anthology, 
jferemias de Decker, The too early opening flower. 
6. Taylor's German Poetry, J. G. Jacobi, Elegy. 



THE UNSTABLE. 283 

Swain, alas, the summer's fled, 
And the hapless rose is dead ! 

in. 
Bear me then to yonder rill, 

Late so freely flowing, 
Wat'ring many a daffodil 

On its margin growing. 
Sun and wind exhaust its store ; 
Yonder rivulet glides no more ! 

IV. 

Lead me to the bow'ry shade, 

Late with roses flaunting ; 
Lov'd resort of youth and maid, 

Amorous ditties chaunting. 
Hail and storm with fury show'r ; 
Leafless mourns the rifled bow'r. 

v. 

Where's the silver-footed maid, 

With curling flaxen tresses ; 
Oft I've met her in the glade, 

Gathering water-cresses? 
Swain, how short is Beauty's bloom ? 
Seek her in the grassy tomb. 

VI. 

Whither roves the tuneful swain, 

Who, of rural pleasures ; 
Rose and violet, rill and plain, 

Sung in deftest measures ? 
Swift Life's fairest vision flies, 
Death has closed the Poet's eyes! 

7. Who can pitying see the flowery race, 

Shed by the Morn, their new flushed bloom resign, 
Before the parching beam ? So fade the fair, 
When fevers revel through their azure veins. 

8. fair Wyoming, 

Although the wild -flower on thy ruin'd wall, 
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring 
Of what thy gentle people did befall. 

9. fled 

Fast as the shapes of mingled shade and mist, 
That lurk in the glens of a twilight grove, 

Flee from the morning beam. 

7. Thomson's Seasons, Summer. 8. Campbell's Gertrude 
of Wyoming, g. Queen Mab. 



284 NATURE-STUDY. 

Bees. — 

10. So work the honey bees ; 

Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The art of order to a peopled kingdom. 
They have a king, and officers of sorts : 
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; 
Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
To the tent-royal of their emperor : 
Who, busy'd in his majesty, surveys 
The singing masons building roofs of gold ; 
The civil citizens kneading up the honey ; 
And poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, 
Delivering o'er to executors pa!e 
The lazy, yawning drone. 

1. A populous solitude of bees and birds, 

And fairy-form'd and many-coloured things. 102. 

Birds. — 

2. As the rooks, at dawn of day, 

Bestirring them to dry their feathers chill, 

Some speed their way a-field, and homeward some, 
Returning, cross their flight, while some abide 
And wheel round their airy lodge ; so seem'd 
That glitterance, wafted on alternate wing, 
As upon certain stair it met, and clash'd 
Its shining, 

3. A widow bird sate mourning for her Love 

Upon a wintry bough ; 
The frozen wind crept on above, 
The freezing stream below. 

There was no leaf upon the forest bare, 

No flower upon the ground, 
And little motion in the air 

Except the mill-wheel's sound. 

Trees. — 

4. O leave this barren spot to me ! 

Spare, woodman, spare the Beechen-tree ! 



10. King Henry V. 1. Childe Harold, c. iii. 
2. Gary's Dante (Paradise), c. xxi. 3. Shelley's Poems. 
4. Campbell, The Beech-tree s Petition. 



TREES. 285 



Though bush or flowerets never grow 
My dark, unwarming shade below ; 
Nor Summer-bud perfume the dew, 
Of rosy blush, or yellow hue : 

Yet leave this barren spot to me : 

5. For I have seen 

The thorn frown rudely all the winter long 
And after bear the rose upon its top ; 

6. while we taste the fragrance of the rose, 

Glows not her blush the fairer ? 
* * * 

Of colours changing from the splendid rose, 
To the pale violet's dejected hue. 

7. 'Tis the last Rose of Summer, 

Left blooming alone ; 
All her lovely companions 

Are faded and gone ; 
No flow'r of her kindred, 

No rose-bud is nigh, 
To reflect back her flushes, 

Or give sigh for sigh ! 

8. Let Burns and old Chaucer unite 

The praise of the Daisy to sing, — 
Let Wordsworth of Celandine write, 

And crown her the queen of the Spring ; 
The Hyacinth's classical fame 

Let Milton embalm in his verse ; 
Be mine the glad task to proclaim 

The charms of the untrumpeted Furze. 

* * -ji- 
lt is bristled with thorns, I confess ; 

But so is the much-flatter'd Rose : 
Is the Sweet-brier lauded the less 

Because among prickles it grows ? 

* *• * 

See ! Nature with Midas-like touch, 

Here turns a whole common to gfold. 



5. Cary's Dante {Paradise), c. xiii. 6. Akenside's 
Pleasures of Imagination. 7. Moore, The Last Rose of 
Summer. 8. Horace Smith, The Furze-Bush. 



286 NATURE-STUDY. 

9. Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere ; 
Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough ; 
Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh near ; 
Sweet is the fir-bloom, but his branches rough ; 
Sweet is the cypress, but his rind is tough ; 
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; 

Sweet is the broom-flowre, but yet sour enough ; 
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill : 
So every sweet with sour is tempered still. 

Flowers. — 

10. I love all things the seasons bring, 
All buds that start, all birds that sing, 

All leaves from white to jet; 
All the sweet words that summer sends. 
When she recalls her flowery friends, 

But chief— the Violet. 

I love, how much I love the rose, 

On whose soft lips the south-wind blows, 

In pretty amorous threat : 
The lily paler than the moon, 
The odorous wonderous month of June, 

Yet more — the Violet. 

1. I wander'd lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 
When all at once I saw a crowd, 
A host of golden daffodils, 
Beside the lake, beneath the trees 
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine, 
And twinkle on the milky way, 
They stretch'd in never-ending line 
Along the margin of a bay : 
Ten thousand saw I at a glance 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee : — 

A Poet could not but be gay 

In such a jocund company! 

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought; 



9. E. Spenser, Sonnet. 10. B. Cornwall, The Violet. 
1. Wordsworth, The Daffodils. 



PERFUME, ETC. 287 

For oft, when on my couch I lie 
In vacant or in pensive mood, 
They flash upon that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude ; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 

Perfume. — 

2. The perfume breathing round, 

Like a pervading spirit ; — the still sound 
Of falling waters, lulling as the song 

Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 

Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep 

In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep. 

Motion. — 

3. Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light 
Speed thee in thy fiery flight, 

In what cavern of the night 

Will thy pinions close now ? 

Tell me, moon, thou pale and grey 
Pilgrim of heaven's homeless way, 
In what depth of night or day 
Seekest thou repose now ? 

Weary wind, who wanderest 
Like the world's rejected guest, 
Hast thou still some secret nest 
On the tree or billow ? 

4. The opening morn, resplendent noon, 

With heaven's bright glory graced, 

, and night's silent moon 

Tell nought remains at rest. 

The comet, wandering far on high, 
'Midst countless planets placed, 
Roll ceaseless through the boundless sky — 

The tide returns, and ebbs again 

The river hies with haste, 
With rills and springs into the main — 

The various seasons of the year, — 
Midst spring with flowery vest, 



2. Lalla Rookh. 3. Shelley, The World's Wanderers. 
4. David Grant, Action a Law of Nature, 



288 NATURE-STUDY. 

Bright summer, autumn, winter's skies, 
Tell * * . 

Thus day, and night, and star, and flood, 

And seasons — all attest 
That, through the wondrous works of God, 
There's nought remains at rest. 
Man. — 

i. thou hast the dew of thy youth. — 

2. [Biron says of Armado,] A man of fire-new words — 

3. I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
The unyok'd humour of your idleness : 
Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; 

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world, 
That, when he please again to be himself, 
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 

4. When Nature her great masterpiece design'd, 
And framed her last, best work, the human mind, 
Her eye intent on all the mazy plan, 

She form'd of various parts the various man. 

5. [Mokanna — the veiled prophet], 

He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles ! 

Trouble. — 

6. Troilus. But I am weaker than a woman's tear, 

Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance ; 
Less valiant than the virgin in the night, 
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy. 

7. [ The veiled prophet of Kharassan.] 

In every glance there broke, without control, 
The flashes of a bright, but troubled soul, 
Where sensibility still wildly play'd 
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! 

Action. — 

8. Come as the winds come, when 

Forests are rended, 
Come as the waves come, when 
Navies are stranded : 

1. Psalm ex. 3. 2. Love's Labour Lost. 3. King 
Henry IV., 1st Part, Act i. sc. 1. 4. Burns' First Epistle 
to Mr. Graham. 5, 7. Moore's Lalla Rookh. 6. Troilus 
and Cressida. 8. Scott's Gathering of Donald the Black. 



DEATH, ETC. 289 

Faster come, faster come, 

Faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page and groom, 
Tenant and master. 
Death. — 

9. See the leaves around us falling, 

Dry and wither'd to the ground ; 
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, 
In a sad and solemn sound : — 

io . The hills, 

Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun ; the vales 

Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 

The venerable woods — rivers that move 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks 

That make the meadows green ; and, poured 

round all, 
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 
Through the still lapse of ages. 

Social. 
Female Beauty. — 

1. As at my window — all alone — 

I stood about the break of day, 
Upon my left Aurora shone, 

To guide Apollo on his way. 
Upon my right I could behold 
My love, who comb'd her locks of gold ; 
I saw the lustre of her eyes, 

And, as a glance on me she cast ; 
Cried, ' Gods retire behind your skies, 

Your brightness is by hers surpass'd.' 
As gentle Phcebe, when at night 

She shines upon the earth below, 
Pours forth such overwhelming light, 
All meaner orbs must faintly glow. 
Thus did my lady, on that day, 
Eclipse Apollo's brighter ray, 
Whereat he was so sore distrest 

His face with clouds he overcast, 
And I exclaim'd, ' That course is best, 
Your brightness is by hers surpass'd.' 

9. Bp. Home, The Emblems of Death. 10. Bryant's Thana- 
topsis. 1. King Francis I., .Ballad (Oxenford's French Songs). 

U 



290 NATURE-STUDY. 

2. She is fair, 
Past compare, 

One small hand her waist can span. 

Eyes of light — 

Stars, though bright, 
Match those eyes you never can. 

3. O happy Thames ! that didst my Stella bear, 
I saw thyself, with many a smiling line 
Upon thy cheerful face, joy's livery wear, 
While those fair planets on thy streams did shine. 
The boat for joy could not to dance forbear, 
While wanton winds, with beauty so divine 
Ravished, staid not, till in her golden hair 

They did themselves, (O sweetest prison !) twine. 

4. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear : 

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 

5. I thought her 



As chaste as unsunn'd snow :■ 



6. the beloved 

Though every one of my words should be pearls of 

great price ; 
Still she doth not account them at all worthy of her 

ears. 

7. O that I were the nightingale, or the zephyr of the 

morn, 
That my path might lie amongst thy fragrant bowers ! 

8. The face of the beloved, the sun, and the moon, are 

all three one : 
Her stature, the cypress, and the pine are all three one. 

9. If, for once only, she will show her face from the veil, 
She will take the. diploma of beauty from the sun. 
The tulip shall borrow bloom from her countenance ; 
The hyacinth will grow furious at the sight of her curls. 

1. Thy face hath shamed the rose, and thy tresses, the 

spikenard, 
The nightingale forsaketh the parterre, and flieth unto 
thee. 

2. Song, attributed to King Henry IV. (Oxenford's French 
Songs.) 3. Sir P. Sidney, Sonnets. 4. Romeo and Juliet. 
5. Cymbeline, 6, 7, 8, 9, 1, Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 



FEMALE BEAUTY. 29 I 

2. These dark eyes of thine are, in themselves, black 

calamities ; 

3. A perfect garden is her lovely face, containing flowers 

of every hue. 

4. A draught like this 'twere vain to seek, 

No grape can such supply ; 
It steals its tint from Leila's cheek, 
Its brightness from her eye. 

5. Then to the flood she rushed; the parted flood 
Its lovely guest with closing waves received ; 
And, every beauty softening, every grace 
Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 

As shines the lily through the crystal mild ; 

Or as the rose amid the mountain dew, 

Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows. 

6. Why does azure deck the sky ? 

'Tis to be like thine eyes of blue ; 
Why is red the rose's dye ? 

Because it is thy blushes' hue. 
All that's fair, by love's decree, 
Has been made resembling thee ! 

Why is falling snow so white, 

But to be like thy bosom fair ? 
Why are solar beams so bright ? 

That they may seem thy golden hair ! 
All that's bright, by love's decree, 
Has been made resembling thee ! 

Why are nature's beauties felt ? 

Oh ! 'tis thine in her we see ! 
Why has music power to melt ? 

Oh ! because it speaks like thee. 
All that's sweet, by love's decree, 
Has been made resembling thee ! 

7. Oh ! fair as heaven and chaste as light ! 

8. Whence that aery bloom of thine, 

Like a lily which the sun 
Looks thro' in the sad decline, 
And a rose-bush leans upon, 



2, 3. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 4. Dr. J. D. Carlyle's 
Specimens of Arabian Poetry. 5. The Seasons. 6. Moore, 
Song. 7. Ibid., A Warning. 8. Tennyson's Adeline. 

.U 2 



292 NATURE-STUDY. 

Hast thou heard the butterflies 
What they say betwixt their wings ? 

Or in stillest evenings 
With what voice the violet woos 
To his heart the silver dews ? 

Or when little airs arise, 
How the merry bluebell rings 
To the mosses underneath ? 
Hast thou looked upon the breath 

Of the lilies at sunrise ? 
Wherefore that faint smile of thine, 
Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ? 

9. Long while I sought to what I might compare 

Those powerful eyes which lighten my dark spright, 
Yet find I nought on earth to which I dare 
Resemble th' image of the goodly light. 
Not to the sun, for they do shine by night ; 
Nor to the moon, for they are changed never : 
Nor to the stars, for they have purer sight ; 
Nor to the lire, for they consume not ever; 
Nor to the lightning, for they still presever ; 
Nor to the diamond, for they are more tender ; 
Nor unto crystal, for nought may them sever ; 
Nor unto glass, such baseness mought offend her : 
Then to the Maker self they likest be, 
Whose light doth lighten all that here we see. 

Watching. — 

1. E'en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower 

Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night, 
With her sweet brood, impatient to descry 
Their wished looks, and to bring home their food, 
In the fond quest unconscious of her toil ; 
She, of the time prevenient, on the spray, 
That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze 
Expects the sun ; nor ever, till the dawn, 
Removeth from the east her eager ken, 
So stood the dame erect, and bent her glance 
Wistfully. * * * 

2. And as a willow keeps 

A patient watch over the stream that creeps 

Windingly by it, so the quiet maid 

Held her in peace : so that a whispering blade 



9. E. Spenser, Sonnet. 1. Cary's Dante {Paradise), 

c. xxiii. 2. Keats' Endymion, B. 1. 



LOVE. 293 

Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling 

Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling 

Among sear leaves and twigs, might all be heard. 

Love. — 

3. Ye tradeful Merchants ! that with weary toil 

Do seek most precious things to make your gain, 

And both the Indias of their treasure spoil, 

What needeth you to seek so far in vain ? 

For, lo ! my love doth in herself contain 

All this world's riches that may far be found. 

If saphyrs, lo ! her eyes be saphyrs plain ; 

If rubies, lo ! her lips be rubies sound ; 

If pearls, her teeth be pearls, both pure and round ; 

If ivory, her forehead ivory ween ; 

If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground ; 

If silver, her fair hands are silver sheen : 

But that which fairest is, but few behold, 

Her mind, adorned with virtues manifold. 

4. The rolling wheel that runneth often round, 
The hardest steel in tract of time doth tear; 
And drizzling drops, that often do redound 
The firmest flint doth in continuance wear: 

. Yet cannot I, with many a dropping tear, 
And long entreaty, soften her hard heart. 

5. So oft as I her beauty do behold, 
And therewith do her cruelty compare, 

I marvel of what substance was the mould, 

The which her made att once so cruel fair. 

Not earth, for her high thoughts more heavenly are : 

Not water, for her love doth burn like fire ; 

Not air, for she is not so light or rare ; 

Not fire, for she doth freeze with faint desire ; 

Then needs another element inquire, 

Whereof she mote be made, that is the sky ; 

For to the heaven her haughty looks inspire, 

And eke her love is pure immortal hy. 

Then sith to heaven ye likened are the best, 

Be like in mercy as in all the rest. 

6. The forward violet thus did I chide ; — 

Sweet thief, whence did thou steal thy sweet that 

smells, 
If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride 
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, 
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 

3, 4, 5. Spenser's Sonnets. 6. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 



294 NATURE-STUDY. 

The lily I condemned for thy hand, 
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair : 
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
One blushing shame, another white despair ; 
A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both, 
And to his robbery had annexed thy breath ; 
But for this theft, in pride of all his growth, 
A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, 
But sweet or colour it had stolen from thee. 

7. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate : 
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date : 
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
And often is his gold complexion dimmed ; 
And every fair from fair sometimes declines, 

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed ; 
But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst ; 
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
When in eternal lines to time thou growest : 
So long as man can breathe, or eyes can see, 
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

8. As lead to grave in marble stone, 

My song may pierce her heart as soon ; 

The rocks do not so cruelly 
Repulse the waves continually. 

9. Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 
When June is past, the fading rose ; 
For in your beauties orient deep 
These flow'rs, as in their causes, sleep. 

Ask me no more, whither do stray 
The golden atoms of the day ; 
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare 
Those powders to enrich your hair. 

Ask me no more, whither doth haste 
The Nightingale, when May is past ; 
For in your sweet dividing throat 
She winters, and keeps warm her note. 



7. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 8. Sir T. Wiat, The Lover 
Complaineth. 9. T. Carew, Song* 



LOVE. 295 

Ask me no more, where those stars light, 
That downwards fall in dead of night ; 
For in your eyes they sit, and there 
Fixed become, as in their sphere. 

1. And we will sit upon the rocks, 
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals. 

And I will make thee beds of roses, 
And a thousand fragrant posies, 
And a cap of flowers, and a kirtle, 
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle ; 

And a gown made of the finest wool, 
Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 
Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
With buckles of the purest gold ; 

And a belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
With coral clasps and amber studs ; 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me and be my love. 

2. [The Passionate Lover exclaims] 

Not he who reasons best, this wisdom knows : 
Ears only drink what rapt'rous tongues disclose. 
Nor fruitless deem the reed's heart-piercing pain : 
See sweetness dropping from the parted cane. 

New plans for wealth your fancies would invent ; 
Yet shells, to nourish pearls, must lie content. 

3. With thee, fair plunderer of hearts ! a dungeon would 

seem delightful as a bed of roses. 

4. O, my beloved ! thy brow is like a sword ; thy hair 

like a chain; thy eyelashes like arrows; thy 
bosom's garden is like the vale of Cashmire ; thy 
beauty is the conqueror of the world. 

5. Of the two tresses of thy hair I will spin two strings 

for my guitar. * * 

Thy height and shape are like unto a cypress, naz. 
Thy two eyes are like those of a hawk. * * 



1. C. Marlow, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. 
2. A Translation by Sir W. jfones. (S. Rousseau's Persian 
Literature.) 3. Ibid. 4,5. Alex. Chodzko's Persian Poetry. 



296 NATURE-STUDY. 

6. In the blue horizon's beaming, 

Thee, sweet maid ! alone I see ; 
In the silver wavelet's streaming, 

Thee, sweet maiden ! only thee. 
Thee, in day's resplendent noonlight, 

Glancing from the sun afar ; 
Thee, in midnight's softer moonlight ; 

Thee, in every trembling star. 
Wheresoe'er I go, I meet thee ; 
Wheresoe'er I stay, I greet thee ; 

Following always — everywhere : 

Cruel maiden ! O, forbear ! 

7. She sleeps ; — Amaryllis 

Midst flowrets is laid, 
And roses and lilies 

Make the sweet shade : 

The maiden is sleeping, 

Where, through the green hills, 

Manzanares is creeping 
Along with his rills. 

Wake not Amaryllis, 

Ye winds in the glade ! 
Where roses and lilies 

Make the sweet shade. 

The sun, while upsoaring, 

Yet tarries awhile, 
The bright rays adoring, 

Which stream from her smile. 

The wood-music still is ; 

To rouse her afraid, 
Where roses and lilies 

Make the sweet shade. 

8. In the bosom of April 

The sun midst flowers is laid ; 
His pillow is of jasmins, 

And the painted meadows his bed : 
The rivulet gently flowing 

Is his sweet lullaby. 
See by yon grove of myrtles, 
Cloris sleeping tranquilly. 

6. Bowring's Magyar Poems, [A. Kisfaludy) 7, 8. Ibid., 
Poetry of Spain, 



LOVE. 297 

The sun calls forth the odours 

From Daphne's laurel grove — 
The incense is of emeralds, 

An holocaust of love. 

9. Ask the mariner * * 

* >:< * # 

If wave, or star, or friendly gales, 
Are half so fair as she. 

* * * * 

Ask the shepherd * * 

* * * * 

If the valley's lap, or the sun-crown'd rocks, 
Are half so fair as she. 

1. Hard is yon rock, around whose head, 
Unfelt, the rudest tempests blow ; 
And chilling cold the silver snow 

On nature's ample bosom spread. 
But harder is that heart of thine, 
And colder all its frozen streams, 
Where passion ne'er inscribed a line, 
And love's warm sunshine never gleams. 

Deaf as the surges of the sea 

To the loud plaint of misery, 

Though less than thou unkind and rude : 

Dark is the evening's dying fall, — 

But what are these, — or aught, or all, 

To a tired spirit's solitude ? 

2. Now appears the star of Venus, 

Sol's last ray the mountain gilds, 
While the night, in dusky mantle, 

Travels o'er the darkening fields. 
See yon moorish warrior flying 

* * * 

To the careless winds of heaven, 

To the rocks and woods he cries ; 
Nought but pitying Echo hears him — 

Pitying Echo still replies. 
1 Zayde ! — Zayde ! — far more cruel 

Than the wreck-absorbing wave ; 

Harder than the hardest mountain, 

Whose old feet the waters lave ; 
* * * 



9. Bowring's Poetry of Spain, Gil Vicente, 1562. 1. Ibid. 
F. de Herrera. 2. Ibid.* Romance. 



298 NATURE-STUDY. 

Wilt thou twine thy youthful tendrils 

Round a proud and rugged tree ; 
Leaving mine all stripp'd and blasted ; 

Flowerless — fruitless, left by thee ? 

3. Were mine the wealth of Croesus old ; 
Had I as many diamonds bright 

As leaves that shake in summer's light, 

Or sands o'er which the deep hath rolled ;■ — 

Had I as many purest pearls 

As grass blades hang upon the lea, 

Or ripples dance along the sea 

When o'er its breast the zephyr curls ; — 

Had I a palace, crystal built, 

And filled as full of golden bars 

As yonder heaven is filled with stars 

When evening fair the skies hath gilt ; — 

Like lordly knights and kingly earls 

With orders were I titled o'er 

As thick as waves that kiss the shore 

When Wind his banner bread unfurls ; — 

I swear by yon bright worlds above, 

I'd give them all this blessed night 

To meet beneath this fair moonlight, 

And clasp thee in my arms, my Love ! 

4. Were I as base as is the lowly plain, 

And you, my Love, as high as heaven above, 
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain 
Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love. 
Were I as high as heaven above the plain, 
And you, my Love, as humble and as low 
As are the deepest bottoms of the main, 
Wheresoe'er you were, with you my love should g . 
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I skies, 
My love should shine on you like to the sun, 
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes 
Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done. 
Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, 
Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. 

5. Over the mountains 
And over the waves, 
Under the fountains 
And under the graves ; 

3. W. R. Alger's Poetry of the East, (The Lover's Offer). 
4. J. Sylvester, Love's Omnipresence. 5. Anon., The great 
Adventurer. 



LOVE. 299 

Under the floods that are deepest, 
Which Neptune obey ; 
Over rocks that are steepest 
Love will find out the way. 

6. I'll love thee as the bee the flower 

In which the fragrant honey lies, 
As nightingales the evening hour, 
And as the star adores the skies. 

7. If they knew it, the little flow'rets, 

How deeply wounded my heart, 
I ween they would all weep with me 
To heal its aching smart. 

And if the nightingales knew it, 

How sick I am, — how sad, 
They fain would carol for me 

Their song so soothing and glad. 

And knew they, the golden starlets, 

And knew they of my woe, 
They'd leave their high habitations 

To comfort me here below. 

But none of all these can know it,— 

One only knoweth my smart ; 
'Tis she who herself hath riven 

And torn asunder my heart. 

8. The fountains mingle with the river, 
And the rivers with the ocean, 

The winds of heaven mix for ever 
With a sweet emotion ; 
Nothing in the world is single, 
All things by a law divine 
In one another's being mingle — 
Why not I with thine. 

See the mountains kiss high heaven 
And the waves clasp one another; 
No sister flower would be forgiven 
If it disdain'd its brother ; 
And the sunlight clasps the earth, 
And the moonbeams kiss the sea — 
What are all these kissings worth, 
If thou kiss not me ? 



6. Oxenford's French Songs (E. Gola). 7. Dulcken's 
German Songs (H. Heine). 8. Shelley, Love's Philosophy. 



300 NATURE-STUDY. 

9. And in the midst of this wide quietness 
A rosy sanctuary will I dress 
With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain, 

With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, 
With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, 

Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: 
And there shall be for thee all soft delight 

That shadowy thought can win, 
A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, 

To let the warm Love in ! 

1. Oh welcome, bat and owlet gray, 
Thus winging low your airy way ! 
And welcome, moth and drowsy fly, 
That to mine ear come humming by ! 
And welcome, shadows dim and deep, 
And stars that through the pale sky peep ! 
O welcome all ! to me ye say, 

My woodland Love is on her way. 

Upon the soft wind floats her hair ; 
Her breath is in the dewy air ; 
Her steps are in the whispered sound, 
That steals along the stilly ground. 
O dawn of day, in rosy bower, 
What art thou to this witching hour? 
O noon of day, in sunshine bright, 
What art thou to the fall of night ? 

2. Oh Love ! young Love ! bound in thy rosy band, 
Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, 

These hours, and only these, redeem life's years of 
ill! 

3. [The Meeting of Hafed and Hinda.] 
Moments there are, and this was one, 
Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoon's eclipse — 

Or like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crater's burning lips, 

Sweetening the very edge of doom ! 
The past — the future — all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last ! 



9. Keats' Ode to Psyche. 1. Joanna Baillie, Song. 
2. Childe Harold, c. ii. 81. 3. Lalla Rookh. 



LOVE. 3OI 

Never was scene so form'd for love ! 
Beneath them, waves of crystal move, 
In silent swell — Heav'n glows above, 
And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell like the wave, and glow like heav'n ! 
But oh ! too soon that dream is past — 
* * * * 

But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 

4. [Tis sweet to think] 

The heart, like a tendril, accustomed to cling, 

Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone, 
But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing 

It can twine in itself, and make closely its own. 

% * * >:< 

Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike, 
They are both of them bright, but they're change- 
able too. 

5. [Love's young dream.] 

;j; & -fc -!< 

On memory's waste. 
'Twas odour fled 
As soon as shed ; 
'Twas morning's winged dream ; 
'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again 
On life's dull stream ! 

6. For thy locks of raven-hue, 

Flowers with hoar-frost pearly, 
Crocus-cups of gold and blue, 

Snowdrops drooping early, 
With mezereon-sprigs combine : 
Rise, my love, my Valentine. 

7. Come into the garden, Maud, 

For the black bat, night, has flown, 
Come into the garden, Maud, 

I am here at the gate alone ; 
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, 

And the musk of the roses blown. 

For a breeze of morning moves, 

And the planet of Love is high, 
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves 

On a bed of daffodil sky, 
To faint in the light of the sun she loves, 

To faint in his light and to die. 

4, 5. Irish Melodies. 6. Montgomery, The Valentine 
Wreath. 7. Tennyson, From 'Maud.' 



302 NATURE-STUDY. 

There has fallen a splendid tear 

From the passion-flower at the gate. 
She is coming, my dove, my dear ; 

She is coming, my life, my fate; 
The red rose cries, ' She is near, she is near; ' 

And the white rose weeps, ' She is late ; ' 
The larkspur listens, ' I hear, I hear ; ' 

And the lily whispers, ' I wait.' 

She is coming, my own, my sweet; 

Were it ever so airy a tread, 
My heart would hear her and beat, 

Were it earth in an earthy bed ; 
My dust would hear her and beat, 

Had I lain for a century dead ; 
Would start and tremble under her feet, 

And blossom in purple and red. 

8. ' Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height 
What pleasure lives in height (the Shepherd sang), 
In height and cold, the splendour of the hills ? 
But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease 
To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, 
To sit a star upon the sparkling spire ; 
And come, for Love is of the valley, come, 
For Love is of the valley, come thou down 
And find him ; by the happy threshold, he, 
Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, 
Or red with spirted purple of the vats, 
Or fox-like in the vine ; nor cares to walk 
With Death and Morning on the silver horns, 
Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, 
Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, 
That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls 
To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : 
But follow ; let the torrent dance thee down, 
To find him in the valley ; let the wild 
Lean-headed eagles yelp alone, and leave 
The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill 
Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, 
That like a broken purpose waste in air : 
So waste not thou, but come, for all the vales 
Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth 
Arise to thee ; the children call, and I 
Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, 
Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; 

8. Tennyson, From i The Princess.' 



WAVERING LOVE, ETC. 303 

Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, 
The moan of doves in immemorial elms, 
And murmuring of innumerable bees.' 

Wavering Love. — 

8. This weak impress of love is as a figure 
Trenched [cut] in ice, which, with an hour's heat, 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 

9. Even as the changeful moon across the sky 
Moves on inconstant — now in brightness shining, — 
Now clouded — now towards the hills declining — 
Now lifts its face, and now its horn on high : 

So falsely midst the gods — so treach'rously 
Doth love deceive, and laugh at mortal men — 

1. The forest trees now put their foliage on, 

The almond its new flower begins to wear; 
This genial sun could animate a stone, 
When all is joyous — why do we despair? 

Voice. — 

2. your tongue's sweet air 

More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, 

When wheat is green, when haw-thorn buds appear. 

3. [His voice in thine reflected] 

Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice th' aerial sweetness it had brought ! 

Retreat. 

4. Ah, for some retreat 

Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to 

beat ; 

* * * . 

Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far 

away, 
On from island unto island at the gateways of the day. 

Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and 

happy skies, 
Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots 

of Paradise. 

Never comes the trader, never floats an European flag, 
Slides the bird o'er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer 
from the crag; 



8. Two Gentlemen of Verona. 9. Bowring's Cheskian 
Anthology, Bohemia. 1. Oxenford's French Songs (Ejnile 
Varin). 2. Midsummer Night's Dream. 3. Lalla Rookh. 
4. Tennyson's Locksley Hall. 



304 NATURE-STUDY. 

Droops the heavy blossom'd bower, hangs the heavy 

fruited tree — 

* * * 

Forward, forward let us range. 



Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing 
grooves of change. 

* * * 

Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over 

heath and holt, 
Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a 

thunderbolt. 

Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire 

or snow ; 
For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go. 

Fairy Feast. — 

5. A little mushroom table spread ; 

After short prayers, they set on bread, 
A moon-parch'd grain of purest wheat, 
With some small glittering grit, to eat 
His choicest bits with ; then in a trice 
They make a feast less great than nice. 
But, all this while his eye is serv'd, 
We must not think his ear is starv'd ; 
But that there was in place, to stir 
His spleen, the chirring grasshopper, 
The merry cricket, puling fly, 
The piping gnat, for minstrelsy ; 
And now we must imagine first 
The elves present, to quench his thirst 
A pure seed-pearl of infant dew, 
Brought and besweeten'd in a blue 
And pregnant violet ; which done, 
His kitling eyes begin to run 
Quite through the table, where he spies 
The horns of papery butterflies, 
Of which he eats ; and tastes a little 
Of what we call the cuckoo's spittle : 
A little furze-ball pudding stands 
By, yet not blessed by his hands, 
That was too coarse ; but then forthwith 
. He ventures boldly on the pith 
Of sugar'd rush, and eats the sag 
And well-bestrutted bee's sweet bag; 
Gladding his palate with some store 
Of emmet's eggs ; what would he more, 

5. Herrick's Oberon's Feast. 



WINE, ETC. 305 

But beards of mice, a newt's stew'd thigh, 

A bloated earwig, and a fly ; 

With the red-capp'd worm, that is shut 

Within the concave of a nut, 

Brown as a tooth ; a little moth, 

Late fatten'd in a piece of cloth ; 

With wither'd cherries ; mandrake's ears ; 

Moles' eyes ; to these, the slain stag's tears; 

The unctuous dewlaps of a snail ; 

The broke heart of a nightingale 

O'ercome in music ; with a wine 

Ne'er ravish'd from the flattering vine, 

But gently press'd from the soft side 

Of the most sweet and dainty bride, 

Brought in a dainty daisy, which 

He fully quaffs up to bewitch 

His blood to height ? This done commended 

Grace by the priest, the feast is ended. 

Wine. — 

6. Wine's the sun ; the moon, sweet soul ! 
We will call the waning bowl : 

Bring the sun, bring him soon, 
To the bosom of the moon ! 

Dash us with this liquid fire, 
It will thoughts divine inspire ; 
And, by nature taught to glow, 
Let it like the waters flow. 

7. Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour 

When pleasure, like the midnight flow'r,* 
That scorns the eye of vulgar light, 
Begins to bloom for sons of night. 

Marriage. — 

8. Roses, their sharp spines being gone, 
Not royal in their smells alone, 

But in their hue ; 
Maiden pinks, of odour faint, 
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, 

And sweet tyme true ; 

Primrose, first-born child of Ver, 
Merry spring-time's harbinger, 

6. S. Rousseau's Persian Literature. 7. Irish Melodies. 
8. Beaumont and Fletcher, Bridal Song. 

* Termed by Linnaeus, flores tristes, melancholy flowers. 

X 



3° 6 



NATURE-STUDY. 



With her bells dim ; 
Oxlips in their cradles growing, 
Marigolds on death-beds blowing, 

Lark-heels trim ; 
All, dear Nature's children sweet, 
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet, 

Blessing their sense ! 
Not an angel of the air, 
Bird melodious or bird fair, 

Be absent hence ! 

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor 
The boding raven, nor chough hoar, 

Nor chattering pie, 
May on our bridehouse perch or sing, 
Or with them any discord bring, 

But from it fly ! , 

Calm. — 

9. Calm as a frozen lake when ruthless winds 
Blow fiercely, agitating earth and sky, 
The mother now remained ; 

Friendship. — 

1. Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, 
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood ; 
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, 
And burn the long-lived phcenix in her blood ; 
Make glad and sorrow seasons, as thou fleet'st, 
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
To the wide world, and all her fading sweets ; 
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime ; 

O carve not with thy hours my friend's high brow, 
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen ; 
Him in thy course untainted do allow, 
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 

Yet, do thy worst, old Time : despite thy wrong, 
My friend shall in my verse ever live young. 

2. this pray'r shall be mine : 

That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth, 

And the moonlight of friendship console our decline. 

Grief. — 

3. Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind, 
Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, 
That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. 

9. The Excursion. 1. Shakspeare's Sonnets. 2. Irish 
Melodies. 3. Goldsmith's Traveller. 



GRIEF, ETC. 307 

4. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, 
While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, 
So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunnj' smile, 
Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. 

Oh ! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, 
Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright ray ; 
The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, 
It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again. 

k. this soft warm heart 



Be left more desolate, more dreary cold 
Than a forsaken bird's nest filled with snow 
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine — 

Rest. — 

6. Soften'd he sunk upon a couch, and gave 

His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave 
Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid. 

Sleep. — 

7. O magic sleep ! O comfortable bird, 

That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind 
Till it is hush'd and smooth ! O unconfined 
Restraint ! imprison'd liberty ! great key 
To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, 
Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, 
Echoing grottoes, full of tumbling waves 
And moonlight ; ay, to all the mazy world 
Of silvery enchantment ! 

8. 1. When restless on my bed I lie, 

Still courting sleep, which still will fly, 
Then shall reflection's brighter power 
Illume the lone and midnight hour. 

2. If hush'd the breeze, and calm the tide, 
Soft will the stream of memory glide, 
And all the past, a gentle train, 
Waked by remembrance, live again. 

* • # * 

5. If loud the wind, the tempest high, 
And darkness wraps the sullen sky, 
I muse on life's tempestuous sea, 
And sigh, O Lord, to come to Thee. 



4. Irish Melodies. 5. Wordsworth's Poems. 6. Lalla 
Rookh. 7. Keats' Endymion, B. i. 8. Noel, Night. 

X 2 



3 o8 



NATURE-STUDY. 



g. Waken, drowsy slumberer, waken! 

Over gorse, green broom, and braken, 
From her sieve of silken blue, 
Dawning sifts her silver dew, 
Hangs the emerald on the willow, 
Lights her lamp below the billow, 
Bends the briar and branchy braken — 
Waken drowsy slumber, waken ! 

Round and round from glen and grove, 
Pour a thousand hymns of love ; 
Harps the rail amid the clover, 
O'er the moor-fern whews the plover, 
Bat has hid and heath-cock crow'd, 
Courser neigh'd and cattle low'd, 
Kid and lamb the lair forsaken — 
Waken, drowsy slumberer, waken ! 

Metaphysical. 
Soul.— 

i. Set where the upper streams of Simois flow 
Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood ; 



So, in lovely moonlight, lives the soul, 
Mountains surround it, and sweet virgin air ; 
Cold plashing, past it, crystal waters roll ; 
We visit it by moments, ah ! too rare. 

2. (Callicles says) ; 

As the sky-brightening south wind clears the day, 
And makes the mass'd clouds roll ; 
The music of the lyre blows away 
The clouds that wrap the soul. 

3. (Empedocks, after a Jong silence, breaks forth). 
Oh that I could glow like this mountain ! 

Oh that my heart bounded with the swell of the sea ! 
Oh that my soul were full of light as the stars ! 
Oh that it brooded over the world like the air ! 
Nature. — 

4. Like us, the lightning fires 

Love to have scope and play ; 
The stream, like us, desires 
An unimpeded way ; 
Like us, the Libyan wind delights to roam at large. 

9. Hogg's Morning Song to the Shepherd. 1 M. Arnold's 
New Poems, Palladium. 2, 3. Ibid., Empedocles on Etna. 
4. Ibid., Callicles'' Song. 



MIND, ETC. 309 

Streams will not curb their pride 

The just man not to entomb, 
Nor lightnings go aside 
To leave his virtues room ; 
Nor is that wind less rough which blows a good man's 
barge ; 

Nature, with equal mind, 

Sees all her sons at play ; 
Sees man controul the wind, 

The wind sweep man away : 
Allows the proudly-riding and the founder'd bark. 

Mind. — 

1. The beings of the mind are not of clay ; 

Essentially immortal, they create 
And multiply in us a brighter ray 
And more beloved existence : 

2. The everlasting universe of things 

Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, 

Now dark — now glittering — now reflecting gloom — 

Now lending splendour, where from secret springs 

The source of human thought its tribute brings 

Of waters, — with a sound but half its own, 

Such as a feeble brook will oft assume 

In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, 

Where waterfalls around it leap for ever, 

Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river 

Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves. 

Apathy. — 

3. Many awake, are fast asleep, like the statue, with 

eyes open. 

Fancy. — 

4. When young-eyed Spring profusely throws 
From her green lap the pink and rose, 
When the soft turtle of the dale 

To Summer tells her tender tale ; 
When Autumn cooling caverns seeks, 
And stains with wine his jolly cheeks | 
When Winter, like poor pilgrim old, 
Shakes his silver beard with cold ; 
At every season let my ear 
Thy solemn whispers, Fancy, hear. 



1. Byron's Childe Harold, c. iv. 5. 2. Shelley's Mont 
Blanc. 3. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 4. Dr. Warton's Ode 
to Fancy. 



3 I O NATURE-STUDY. 

With native beauties win applause 
Beyond cold critics' studied laws ; 
O let each Muse's fame increase, 
O bid Britannia rival Greece. 

5. At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, 
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; 
* * * 

And the enjoying of the Spring 
Fades as does its blossoming : 
Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too 
Blushing through the mist and dew, 
Cloys with tasting : * * * 
Fancy, high-commission'd : — send her ! 
She has vassals to attend her ; 
She will bring, in spite of frost, 
Beauties that the earth hath lost ; 



Sweet birds antheming the morn 
*• # * 

the early April lark, 



Or the rooks, with busy caw, 

The daisy and the marigold ; 

White plumed lilies, and the first 

Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst ; 

Shaded hyacinth, alway 

Sapphire queen of the mid-May: 

And every leaf and every flower 

Pearled with the self-same shower. 
* * #- 

Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see 
Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, 

■J> ;•; -X. 

— Let the winged Fancy roam, 
Pleasure never is at home. 
Musing. — 

6. To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 

This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold 
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores 
unroll'd. 

7. Oh Thou, who plumed with strong desire 

Wouldst float above the earth, beware! 

5. Keats, Fancy. 6. Childe Harold, c. ii. 25. 7. Shelley, 
The Two Spirits. 



MEMORY, ETC. 3 I I 

A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire — 
Night is coming ! 

Bright are the regions of the air, 

And among the winds and beams 
It were delight to wander there — 
Night is coming ! 

Memory. — 

8. There's a bower of Roses by Bendemeer's stream, 

And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; 
In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, 

To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 
That bower and its music I never forget, 

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, 
I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? 

Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer ? 

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, 

And some blossoms were gather'd while freshly 
they shone, 
And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave 

All the fragrance of Summer, when Summer was 
gone : 
Thus Memory draws from delight, ere it dies, 

An essence that breathes of it many a year ; 
Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, 

Is that bower on the banks ofthe calm Bendemeer ! 

9. spite of comorant devouring Time, 

10. Time but the impression deeper makes 
As streams their channels deeper wear. 

Literary. 
The Poet. — 

1. Like the flies, every worthless creature buzzeth about 

him, 
When sugar-lipped Hamid reciteth his sweet strains. 

2. Thou hast composed thy Gazel, and strung thy pearls 

— come, sing them sweetly, O Hafiz ! 
For, Heaven has sprinkled over thy poetry the clear- 
ness and beauty of the Pleiades. 

3. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 

From whence 'tis nourished : The fire i' the flint 



8. Moore, Lalla Rookh. 9. Love's Labour Lost. 10. 
Burns, To Mary in Heaven. 1. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 
2. S. Rousseau's Persian Literature. 3. Timon of Athens. 



3 I 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

Shows not, 'till it be struck ; our gentle flame 
Provokes itself, and like a current flies 

Each bound it chases. 

* * * # 

[No hindrance to the design] in the course I hold ; 
But flies an eagle's flight, bold, and forth on, 
Leaving no track behind. 

4. Cameleons feed on light and air : 

Poets' food is love and fame : 
If in this wide world of care 

Poets could but find the same 
With as little toil as they, 

Would they ever change their hue 

As the light cameleons do, 
Suiting it to every ray 
Twenty times a day ? 

* -•{■ * * 

5. — The Poets, in their elegies and songs 
Lamenting the departed, call the groves, 
They call upon the hills and streams to mourn, 
And senseless rocks ; nor idly ; for they speak, 
In these their invocations, with a voice 
Obedient to the strong creative power 

Of human passion. 

6. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : 

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea ; 
Pure as the naked heaven/; majestic and free. 

7. And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing, 

Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part 
Of the self-same universal being, 

Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. 

8. Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark. 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. 
Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy : 
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 



4. Shelley, A n Exhortation. 5. The Excursion. 6. Ibid., 
Milton. 7. H. W. Longfellow, Flowers. 8. Scott's Lady 
of the Jjdkc, c. vi. 



WORDS, ETC. 313 

Words. — 

9. Words are but flowers, the blossoms of a day, 
Their worth must vanish, and their grace decay. 

Romance. — 

1. 
1. When the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free 
In the silken sail of infancy, 
The tide of time flowed back with me, 

The forward-flowing tide of time ; 
And many a sheeny summer-morn, 
Adown the Tigris I was borne, 
By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold, 
High-walled gardens green and old ; 



11. 
Anight my shallop, rustling through 
The low and bloomed foliage, drove 
The fragrant, glistening deeps, and clove 
The citron-shadows in the blue : 
By garden porches on the brim, 



in. 



where all 

The sloping of the moon-lit sward 
Was damask-work, and deep inlay 
Of braided blooms unmown, which crept 
Adown to where the waters slept. 



IV. 

A motion from the river won 
Ridged the smooth level, bearing on 
My shallop through the star-strown calm, 
Until another night in night 
I entered, from the clear light, 
Imbowered vaults of pillared palm, 
Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb 
Heavenward, were stayed beneath the dome 
Of hollow boughs. 



9. Bagot's Horace's Art of Poetry. I. Tennyson's 
Recollections of the Arabian Nights. 



314 NATURE-STUDY, 

v. 
Still onward ; and the clear canal 
Is rounded to as clear a lake. 
From the green rivage many a fall 
Of diamond rillets musical, 
Through little crystal arches low, 
Down from the central fountain flow, 
Fallen silver-chiming, seemed to shake 
The sparkling flints 

VI. 

* * * * 

VII. 

Far off, and where the lemon-grove 
In closest coverture upsprung, 
The living airs of middle night 
Died round the bulbul as he sung; 
Not he : but something which possessed 
The darkness of the world, delight, 
Life, anguish, death, immortal love, 
Ceasing not, mingled, unrepressed. 

Indian Legends. — 

2. legends and traditions, 

With the odours of the forest, 
With the dew and damp of meadows, 
With the curling smoke of wigwams, 
With the rushing of great rivers, 
* # * 

(Answer) 
* From the forests of the prairies, 
From the great lakes of the Northland, 
From the land of the Ojibways, 
From the land of the Dacotahs, 
From the mountains, moors, and fenlands, 
Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Feeds among the reeds and rushes. 

In the green and silent valley, 

By the pleasant water-courses, 
* * * 

beyond them stood the forest, 

Stood the groves of singing pine-trees, 
Green in Summer, white in Winter, 
Ever sighing, ever singing. 



2. H. W. Longfellow, The Song of Hiawatha, 



DIVINE LOVE. 315 

Ye who love the haunts of Nature, 
Love the sunshine of the meadow, 
Love the shadow of the forest, 
Love the wind among the branches, 
And the rain-shower and the snow-storm, 
And the rushing of great rivers 
Through the palisades of pine trees, 
And the thunder in the mountains, 
Whose innumerable echoes 
Flap like eagles in their eyries ; — 
Listen 

Religious and Moral. 

Divine Love. — 

1. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my 

love, my fair one, and come away. (10.) 

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; 

The flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the 
singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle 
is heard in our land ; 

The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the 
vines with the tender grape give a good smell. 
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. (13.) 

2. All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and 

cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they 
have made thee glad. 

3. What matter, though thy countenance is hidden by 

thy curls ? 

The water of immortality itself is, in total darkness, 
concealed. 

From thy curls, thy ruby lips, and thy face, are pro- 
duced 

The night, the glow of sunset, and the dawn of day. 

4. Her eyes are lotuses, and the pupils, they are black 

bees ; 

And their gaze, like the gazelle's, is free and unre- 
strained. 

Her eye-brows are bows, and her eyelashes, the 
arrows ; 

And to launch upon her lover, she hath raised them. 



1. The Song of Solomon, c. ii. 2. Psalm xlv. 8. 3, 4. 
Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 



3 i6 



NATURE-STUDY. 



The Creator's Power. — 

5. The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue etherial sky, 

And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 

Their great Original proclaim : 

The unwearied sun, from day to day, 

Does his Creator's power display, 

And publishes to every land, 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up the wonderous tale, 
And, nightly, to the listening earth 
Repeats the story of her birth : 
Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What though, in solemn silence, all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
What though nor real voice nor sound, 
Amid their radiant orbs be found ! 
In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice ; 
For ever singing as they shine, 
' The hand that made us is Divine ! ' 

Mercy. — 

6. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so 

is his mercy towards them that fear him. (11.) 

As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he 
removed our transgressions from us. (12.) 

7. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the 

Lord is round about his people from henceforth, 
even for evermore. 
The Wise. — 

8. The truly wise man practises humility, 

The bough full of fruit, place its head upon the 
earth. 

9. Empty yet and green, that corn-ear tosses high its 

lofty brow ; 
See it ripe and full and golden, bend in meek sub- 
mission now. 

5. A. Marvell's Hymn ; From Addison's Spectator, No. 
465. 6. Psalm ciii. 7. Psalm cxxv. 2. 8. Rousseau's 
Persian Literature. Sandee's Book of Advice. 9. Bow- 
ring's Magyar Poems, (F. Verseghi.) 



SELF-EVIDENT, ETC. 317 

Such is boyhood in its folly-— shallow, proud, and 

insolent ; 
Such is manhood in its wisdom — modest, and in 

calmness bent. 

Self-Evident. — 

1. Doth the wild ass bray when he hath grass ? or 

loweth the ox over his fodder? (5.) 

Can that which is unsavory be eaten without salt? 
or is there any taste in the white of an egg ? (6.) 

* -i' * * 

Is my strength the strength of stones ? or is my 
flesh of brass ? 

* (12.) 

Deceitful. — 

2. My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a brook, 

and as the stream of brooks they pass away ; (15.) 

Which are blackish by reason of the ice, and 
wherein the snow is hid. C 1 ^.) 

Carnal Heart. — 

3. And my black hair hath turned silvery, but my heart 

not the least white. 

Time. — 

4. The heavens on high perpetually do move ; 
By minutes meal the hour doth steal away ; 

By hours the days, by days the months remove, 
And then by months the years as fast decay ; 
Yea, Virgil's verse and Tully's truth do say, 
That time flieth, and never claps her wings ; 
But rides on clouds, and forward still she flings. 

5. Time by moments steals away, 
First the hour, and then the day; 
Small the daily loss appears, 
Yet it soon amounts to years : 
Thus another year is flown, 

And is now no more our own, 
(Though it brought or promised good,) 
Than the years before the flood. 

6. Unfathomable Sea ! whose waves are years, 

Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe 
Are brackish with the salt of human tears ! 

Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow 

1, 2. Job vi. 3. Raverty's Afghan Poems. 4. Gas- 
coigne's Swiftness of Time. 5. Newton's Betrospect of 
the Year. 6. Shelley, Time. 



3i8 



NATURE-STUDY. 



Claspest the limits of mortality ! 
And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, 
Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore ; 
Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, 

Who shall put forth on thee, 

Unfathomable Sea ? 

Joy.— 

7. Oh ! the joy of such hearts, like the light of the 

poles, 
Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay. 
Friendship. — 

8. Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay, 

That friendship our last happy moments shall 
crown, 
Like the shadows of morning Love lessens away, 
While friendship, like those of the closing day, 

Will linger and lengthen as life's sun goes down. 

Peace. — 

9. When groves by moonlight silence keep, 
And winds the vexed waves release, 
And fields are hush'd, and cities sleep : 
— Lord, is not that the hour of peace ? 

When infancy at evening tries, 
By turns, to climb each parent's knees, 
And gazing meets their raptured eyes : 
— Lord, is not that the hour of peace ? 

In golden pomp, when autumn smiles, 
And hill and dale, its rich increase, 
By man's full barns exulting piles ; 
— Lord, is not that the hour of peace ? 

Hope. — 

1. In the hour of adversity be not without hope ; 
For crystal rain falls from black clouds. 

2. Hope smiles on the infant's dawn of day : 
To boyhood she opens her liveliest page ; 
Gilds the visions of youth with her magic ray, 
Nor is buried at length in the grave of age ; 
For there when our weary career we close, 

Still Hope is the plant from the tomb that grows. 



7. Moore's Irish Melodies, The Frince's Day, 8. Ibid., 
Oh yes, when the Bloom. 9. Gisborne, The hour of Peace. 
1. S. Rousseau's Flowers of Persian Literature. 2. Schiller, 
Hope, {Translated by Pord Derby.') 



DECISION, ETC. 319 

Decision. — 

3. There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 

On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 

And we must take the current when it serves, 

Or lose our ventures. 

Insensibility. — 

4. In a drear-nighted December 
Too happy, happy Tree 

Thy branches ne'er remember 

Their green felicity : 

The north cannot undo them 

With a sleety whistle through them, 

Nor frozen thawings glue them 

From budding at the prime. 

In a drear-nighted December 
Too happy, happy Brook 
Thy bubblings ne'er remember 
Apollo's summer look; 
But with a sweet forgetting 
They stay their crystal fretting, 
Never, never petting 
About the frozen time. 

5. [Azim's false views] 

Of men to gods exalted and refin'd ; 

False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, 

Where earth and heav'n but seem y alas, to meet ! 

Humble. — 

6. The meek and humble, like the oyster, have the pearl 

acquired ; 
But nought of pearl's merchandize, beareth the 
caravan of the waves. 

Compassion. — 

7. Thou hast no compassion for my disorder : 

My companion should be afflicted with the same 

malady, 
That I might sit all day repeating my tale to him ; 
For two pieces of wood burn together with a brighter 

flame. 



3. Julius Ccesar, Act iv. sc. 3. 4. Keats, Happy Insensi- 
bility. 5. Lalla Rookh. 6. Raverty's Afghan Poems. 
7. S. Rousseau's Persian Literature. 



3 20 NATURE-STUDY. 

Promises. — 

8. Speaking, without acting, is mere trouble and 

vexation : 
The kernel of desire, by this absurdity, cannot be 
obtained. 

Desires. — 

9. The pearl of our yearnings lieth immersed in ocean's 

depths ; 
And after it, the divers plunge continually, into its 
dark abyss. 

1. Chill penury repressed their noble rage, 

And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Obscurity. — 

2. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

The Gay.— 

3. Hence, loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, 
In Stygian cave forlorn. 

* * * * 

Find some uncouth cell, 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous 
wings, 
And the night-raven sings ; 

There, under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, 
As ragged as thy locks, 

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 

:;: * * * 

The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr with Aurora playing, 
As he met her once a-Maying, 
There on beds of violets blue, 
And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 
#. * * * 

To hear the lark begin his flight, 
And singing startle the dull night, 
From his watch-tower in the skies, 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 



8, 9. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 1, 2. Gray's Elegy. 
3. Milton's V Allegro. 



THE GAY, ETC. 32 I 

And at my window bid good morrow, 
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, 
Or the twisted eglantine : 
While the cock, with lively din, 

Scatters the rear of darkness thin ; 

* * * 

rouse the slumbering Morn, 

From the side of some hoar hill, 

* * . * 

- By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, 
Right against the eastern gate, 
Where the great sun begins his state, 
Robed in flames, and amber light, 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight, 

* * * 

Under the hawthorn in the dale, 

* * * 

Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
Mountains, on whose barren breast 
The labouring clouds do 'often rest ; 
Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide : 

Towers 

Bosomed high in tufted trees, 

* * * 

two aged oaks, 

* * * 

To many a youth, and many a maid, 
Dancing in the chequered shade ; 

* * * 

On a sunshine holiday, 

Till the livelong daylight fail : 

* * #• 

By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. 

* * * 

Such sights as youthful poets dream 
On summer eves by haunted stream. 

The Pensive. 

3. Hence, vain deluding Joys, 

The brood of Folly 

As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams ; 

3, Milton's 77 Penseroso. 



32 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

Or likest hovering dreams, 

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 

;fc * * * 

Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 

in secret shades 

01 woody Ida's inmost grove, 

* * * * 

I walk unseen 



On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
To behold the wandering moon, 
Riding near her highest noon, 

led astray 

Through the heavens' wide pathless way ; 

as if her head she bowed, 

Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 

* * * 

Over some wide-watered shore, 
>:- * * 

Far from all resort of mirth, 
Save the cricket on the hearth, 

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 
Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 

^c ^c if: 

Of forests and enchantments drear, 
Where more is meant than meets the ear. 

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
Till civil-suited Morn appear, 

* * * 

in a comely cloud, 

While rocking winds are piping loud, 
Or ushered with a shower still, 
When the gust hath blown his fill, 
Ending on the rustling leaves, 
With minute drops from off the eaves. 

And, when the sun begins to fling 
His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring 
To arched walks of twilight groves, 
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, 
Of pine, or monumental oak, 

* * * 

in close covert by some brook, 

* * * 



DISSOLUTION. 323 

Hide me from day's garish eye, 
While the bee with honied thigh, 
That at her flowery work doth sing, 
And the waters murmuring, 
With such consort as they keep, 
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep ; 
And let some strange mysterious dream 
Wave at his wings, in airy stream 
Of lively portraiture displayed, 
Softly in my eyelids laid. 

Dissolution. — 

4. As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away : 

so he that goeth down to the grave shall come 
up no more. 

5. The things of earth are like a river ; — 

A summer river. — swiftly dry ; 
The things above endure for ever, 

Their ocean is — immensity. 
There streams of joy which ne'er shall be 
Exhausted, roll eternally, 
And thither let our spirits flee. 

6. How little do we know that which we are ! 
How less what we may be ! The eternal surge 
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 

Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 
Lashed from the foam of ages, while the graves 
Of empires heave but like some passing waves. 

7. Poor wand'rers of a stormy day ! 

From wave to wave we're driven, 
And Fancy's flash, and Reason's ray, 
Serve but to light the troubled way — 

8. We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon : 

How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, 
Streaking the darkness radiantly ! — yet soon 
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever. 

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; 
Nought may endure but Mutability. 

9. When the lamp is shattered 
The light in the dust lies dead — 

When the cloud is scattered, 
The rainbow's glory is shed. 

4. Job vii. 9. 5. Bowring's Poetry of Spain. 6. Byron, 
Human Life. 7. Moore's Sacred Songs. 8. Shelley, 
Mutability. 9. Ibid., Lines. 

Y 2 



3^4 NATURE-STUDY. 

When the lute is broken, 
Sweet tones are remembered not ; 

When the lips have spoken, 
Loved accents are soon forgot. 

Futurity, &c. — 

10. There is a land of pure delight, 

Where saints immortal reign, 
Infinite day excludes the night, 
And pleasures banish pain. 

There everlasting spring abides, 
And never-withering flowers ; 
Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
This heavenly land from ours. 

Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, 
Stand dress'd in living green : 

So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
While Jordan roll'd between. 

1. The stream, that hath left the sluice, floweth not back 

again. 

The hour, which hath passed away, returneth to us 
no more ! 

For time is, alas ! like unto the dead in the sepul- 
chre's niche ; 

And no one hath brought, by weeping, the dead to 
life again. 

Brevity. — 

2. Who can place any dependence upon this fleeting 

breath ? 
It is impossible to confine the wind with the strongest 
chain ! 

Decay. — 

3. Doth the flower always bloom ? Nothing can exist 

for ever ! 

4. The human frame as rapidly decayeth, 
As the tulips, in the autumn, wither away. 

The Impossible. — 

5. When the rain drops fall from the sky upon the earth. 
They cannot again ascend unto the heavens whence 

they came. 
Imagine not, that those tears which the eye sheddeth, 
Shall e'er again return to the eyes they flowed from. 

10. Watts, Death in Prospect of Heaven. 1 to 5. Raverty's 
Afghan Poetry. 



CHANGE, ETC. 325 

Change. — 

6*. In the same manner as the sun's shadow shifteth, 
So likewise there is nowhere permanence in this 
world. 

7*/The friendship of this world's friend is false and 
hollow. 
From the tulips thou seekest permanence, unavail- 
ingly. 

8. The world, verily, is like a running stream, 
Upon which no impression can remain. 

Illusion. — 

9. Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view ; 
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, 
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies — 

Evanescence. — 

1. our days upon earth are a shadow. 9. 

Can the rush grow up without mire ? can the flag 
grow without water ? 11. 

Whilst it is yet in his greenness, and not cut down, 
it withereth before any other herb. 12. 

[Applied to the hypocrite, and those who forget God.] 
whose trust shall be a spider's web. 13, 14. 

2. (Man.) He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 

down : he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth 
not. 

3. (The wicked hypocrite.) He shall fly away as a dream, 

and shall not be found : yea, he shall be chased 
away as a vision of the night. 

4. I am forgotten as a dead man out of mind : I am like 

a broken vessel. 

5. As smoke is driven away, so drive them away : as 

wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked 
perish at the presence of God. 

6. For he remembered that they were but flesh ; a wind 

that passeth away, and cometh not again. 

7. My days are like a shadow that declineth ; and I am 

withered like grass. 

6*, 7*, 8. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 9. Goldsmith, The 

Traveller. 1. Job viii. 2. Job xiv. 2. 3. Job xx. 8. 

4. Psalm xxxi. 12. 5. Ps. lxviii. 2. 6. Ps. lxxviii. 39. 
7. Ps. cii. 11. 



326 NATURE-STUDY. 

8. As for man, his days are as grass : as a flower of 

the field, so he flourisheth. 15. 

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; and 
the place thereof shall know it no more. 16. 

9. Man is like to vanity : his days are as a shadow that 

passeth away. 

1. Or e'er some thousand years have past ? and that 
Is, to eternity compared, a space, 

Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye 
To the heaven's slowest orb. 

2. ' Say, why across thy visage beam'd, but now, 
The lightning of a smile !' 

* * * 

* Perchance 

Thou marvel'st at my smiling.' 

3. For not on downy plumes, nor under shade 
Of canopy reposing, fame is won, 
Without which whosoe'er consumes his days, 
Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth, 

As smoke in air or foam upon the wave. 

4. How shall I define what thing I am ? 

* * ■* 

Sometimes a mote in the disc of the sun ; 
At others, a ripple on the water's surface. 

5. Like the dry leaf that autumn's breath 
Sweeps from the tree, — the mourning tree : 
So swiftly and so certainly 

Our days are blown about by death. 

6. For aught that I could ever read, 

Could ever hear by tale or history, 

The course of true love never did run smooth. 
* * * * 

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it ; 
Making it momentary as a sound, 
Swift as a shadow, short as a dream ; 
Brief as the lightning in the collied night, 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! 

8. Psalm ciii. 9. Ps. cxliv. 4. 1. Cary's Dante {Purga- 
tory), c. xi. 2. Ibid., c. xxi. 3. Ibid. (Hell), c. xxiv. 
4. Raverty's Afghan Poetry. 5. Bowring's Poetry of Spain. 
6. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act i. sc. 1. 



EVANESCENCE. 327 

The jaws of darkness do devour it up : 
So quick Jbright things come to confusion. 

7. Like to the falling of a star, 
Or as the flights of eagles are ; 

Or like the fresh Spring's gaudy hue, 
Or silver drops of morning dew ; 
Or like a wind that chafes the flood, 
Or bubbles which on water stood : 
Even such is'man whose borrow'd light 
Is straight call'd in, and; paid. to-night. 

The wind blows out, the bubble dies ; 
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies ; 
The dew dries up, the star is shot : 
The flight is past — the man forgot. 

8. Let's take the instant by the forward top : 
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
Steals, ere we can effect them : 

9. Yet time has seen, that lifts the low, 
And level lays the lofty brow, 

Has seen the broken pile complete, 
Big with the vanity of state ; 
But transient is the smile of fate ! 
A little rule, a little sway, 
A sunbeam in a winter's day, 
Is all the proud and mighty have 
Between the cradle and the grave. 

10. [Daffodils'] 

We have short time to stay, as you, 

We have as short a Spring ; 
As quick a growth to meet decay 
As you, or anything. 
We die, 
As your hours do, and dry 

Away, 
Like to the Summer's rain ; 
Or as the pearls of Morning's dew 
Ne'er to be found again. 

1. As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 

The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : 

7. Dr. H. King, Sic Vita. 8. All's well that ends well, 
Act v. sc. 3. 9. Dyer's Grongar Hill. 10. Herrick, To 
Daffodils. 1. Burns' Tarn 0' Shanter. 



328 NATURE-STUDY. 

* * * 

But pleasures are like poppies spread, 

You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ! 

Or like the snowfall in the river, 

A moment white — then melts for ever ;* 

Or like the borealis race, 

That flit ere you can point their place ; 

Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 

Evanishing amid the storm. 

Nae man can tether time or tide. 

2. Ah ! not in vain we silver rills 

From mossy fountains flow : 
Who brawling down the vocal hills, 
Leave mortals as we go. 

Pictur'd in us, may mortals see, 

In our incessant strife, 
The toils of drear obscurity, 

The toils of mortal life. 

Fast, fast we run, ne'er to return, 

Like time that ever flies ; 
Thy fate with us, O man ! then mourn, 

And mourning be thou wise. 

Thro' fretting on our course we gain, 

Like poor contentious pride, 
Yet all our toil is not in vain, 

We swell the river's tide. 

From us, lone travelers of the dale, 

O be it understood, 
Now e'en the lowliest in life's vale 

May aid the common good. 

3. The day retires 

* * * * 

The stars awake in heaven's abyss of blue ; 

* # * . * 

Even as a sand in the majestic sea, 

A diamond-atom on a hill of snow, 

A spark amidst a Hecla's majesty, 

An unseen mote where maddened whirlwinds blow, 

Am I midst scenes like these — the mighty thought 

O'erwhelms me — I am nought, or less than nought. 

2. Bidlake, Inscription on a Rill. 3. Bowring's Russian 
Poets (Lomonossov). 

* See Chapter ii. page 42 ; these two lines misquoted by 
S. T. Coleridge. 



EVANESCENCE. 329 

The pale, the cold, and the moony smile 
Which the meteor beam of a starless night 

Sheds on a lonely sea-girt isle, 

Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light, 

Is the flame of life so fickle and wan 

That flits round our steps till their strength is gone. 

Swift as the arrow cuts its way, 

Through the soft-yielding air ; 
Or as the sun's more subtle ray, 

Or lightning's sudden glare ; 
Or as an eagle to the prey, 

Or shuttle through the loom, — 
So haste our fleeting lives away, 

So pass we to the tomb. 

Like airy bubbles, lo ! we rise, 

And dance upon life's stream ; 
Till soon the air that caused, destroys 

Th' attenuated frame. 
Down the swift stream we glide apace, 

And carry death within ; 
Then break, and scarcely leave a trace, 

To show that we have been. 

Like as the damask rose you see, 
Or like the blossom on the tree, 
Or like the dainty flower in May, 
Or like the morning of the day, 
Or like the sun, or like the shade, 
Or like the gourd which Jonas had — 
E'en such is man ; whose thread is spun 
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. 
The rose withers ; * * 

^ T^ ^ >j< 

Like to the grass that's newly sprung, 

Or like a tale that's new begun, 

Or like the bird that's here to day, 

Or like the pearled dew of May, 

Or like an hour, or like a span, 

Or like the singing of a swan — 

E'en such is man ; who lives by breath, 

Is here, now there, in life, and death. 



4. Shelley, On Death. 5. Clarke, The Brevity of Life. 
6. S. Wastell, Man's Mortality. 



33° NATURE-STUDY. 

Departed.— 

7. He is gone to the mountain 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest. 
The fount reappearing 

From the raindrops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, 
To Duncan no morrow ! 

The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 

But our flower was in flushing 
When blighting was nearest. 

Like the dew on the mountain, 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone, and for ever ! 

8. The tenor 

Which my life holds, he readily may conceive 
Whoe'er hath stood to watch a mountain brook 
In some still passage of its course, and seen, 
Within the depths of its capacious breast, 
Inverted trees, and rocks, and azure sky ; 
And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam, 
And conglobated bubbles undissolved, 
Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse, 
Betray to sight the motion of the stream, 
Else imperceptible. Meanwhile, is heard 
Perchance a roar or murmur; and the sound 
Though soothing, and the little floating isles 
Though beautiful, are both by Nature charged 
With the same pensive office ; and make known 
Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt 
Precipitous, and untoward straits, 
The earth-born wanderer hath passed ; and quickly, 
That respite o'er, like traverses and toils 
Must be again encountered. — Such a stream 
Is human Life. 

9. See how, beneath the moonbeam's smile, 
Yon little billow heaves its breast, 
And foams and sparkles for awhile, 
And murmuring then subsides to rest. 

7. Scott, Coronach. 8. Wordsworth, The Excursion. 
9. Moore, A Reflection at Sea. 



war. 3 3 1 

The man, the sport of bliss and care, 

Rises on Time's eventful sea ; 
And, having swell'd a moment there, 

Thus melts into eternity ! 

Political. 
War.— 

i. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
Unpruned dies ; her hedges even-pleached, 
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, 
Put forth disorder'd twigs : her fallow leas 
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
Doth root upon ; while that the coulter rusts, 
That should deracinate such savag'ry : 
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 
Conceives by idleness ; and nothing teems, 
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
Losing both beauty and utility. 
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness. 

2. On Linden, when the sun was low, 

All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow ; 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

h« * * * 

And furious every charger neigh'd, 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven, 
And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 
Far flash'd the red artillery. 

But redder yet that light shall glow 
On Linden's hills of stained snow, 
And bloodier yet the torrent flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

i. King Henry V., Act v. sc. 2. 2. Campbell's 

Hohenlinden. 



33 1 NATURE-STUDY. 

Treachery. — 

3. When ivy twines around a tree, 

And o'er the boughs hangs verdantly, 
Or on the bark, however rough, 
It seems indeed polite enough ; 
And (judging from external things) 
We deem it there in friendship clings ; 
But where our weak and mortal eyes 
Attain not — hidden treachery lies : 
'Tis there it brings decay unseen, 
While all without seems bright and green ; 
So that the tree which flourished fair, 
Before its time grows old and bare ; 
Then, like a barren log of wood, 
It stands in lifeless solitude, 
For treachery drags it to its doom, 
Which gives but blight — yet promised bloom. 

We have arranged the foregoing specimens 
under the heads of — Universe Physical, Social, 
Metaphysical, Literary, Religious, Moral, and 
Political. Of these the subject that offers most 
material is the Universe ; next the Social por- 
tion ; and third, the Religious and Moral. But 
of these not the greatest subjects are the most in 
demand, on the contrary it may surprise many 
to find that from a given class of poets their 
topics are the beautiful in preference to the 
sublime, and that the small and evanescent in 
Nature excites almost more exquisite attention 
than matter of real magnitude. For example, it 
is not a little remarkable that most poets, with 
varying success speak of breath, air, mist, smoke, 
spark, flash, bubbles, dew, drop, snow, and other 
equally weak, feeble, transient, natural objects 
and appearances As : — 



3. Bowring's Batavian Anthology : Dutch Poets (Jacob 
Cats). 



EVANESCENCE. 333 

A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. 

or ' melted ' — 

As breath into the wind. 



or — 



or- 



-like the snowfall in the river, 



A moment white — then lost for ever. 



At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth 
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. 

In our next division of specimens we shall 
bring our selections to a close, taking a view of 
the Negative and non-natural side of the subject 
of Nature-Study. 



( 334 ) 



Chapter X. 

On Negative views of Nature ; contra-natural and fabulous 
creatures ; poetical mysticism ; Nature as a standard of 

- taste and criticism ; In Memoriam ; Nature and Art ; 
illustrative poetical specimens of the negative employ- 
ment of Nature ; remarks on the application of the term 
negative ; when misused ; its various employment ; 
Nature-Study still requisite. 

Having presented a series of examples derived 
from various poetical sources, arranged under 
distinctive heads, we have now only to consider 
Negative views of Nature. Under this designa- 
tion we do not include the monstrous fabulous 
creations due to even a classical age, such as the 
sphinx, phoenix, pegasus, hydras, dragons, sala- 
manders, unicorns, and other fictions of the ima- 
gination. 

By the negative employment of Nature we prin- 
cipally understand the viewing of objects in some 
extreme and apparently perverted aspect, expressed 
in such phrases as binding the winds, counting the 
sands, raising monuments of snow, or the like. 
It may likewise include deceptive appearances in 
Nature, as when Wordsworth notices the frequent 
deceitfulness of morning and evening appearances 
of fine weather, the smoothest seas proving faith- 
less, the sheltering oak drawing down lightning, — 
but, appealing to the Saviour, he adds : 



NEGATIVE VIEWS. 33$ 

Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word 
No change can falsify. 

Another form is observable in advice, &c., 
given ironically ; as in Solomon's concessions to 
the libertine, and similar instances. 

This department of Nature-Study gives rise to 
apostrophe, hyperbole, vision, fable, and proverbs ; 
and it especially aids satire, irony, sarcasm, 
burlesque, and bombast. 

The pre-eminent advantage of Nature-Study 
consists in its being the only unerring guide man 
possesses to aid his judgment, and to form his 
taste. It is also a powerful instrument in the 
government of criticism on such works of art as 
mainly depend on Nature's influences of what- 
ever kind or quality. 

For example, when the poet assumes the 
super-natural, and consequently the mysterious, 
in his language, figures, and sentiments, w r e ask 
for authority from Nature. The reply may be, 
Is not Nature all mystery ? The ready answer is, 
Yes ? but the difference between mysteries in 
Nature and mysteries in poetry is simply that, in 
the first we have facts without words, in the last 
we have words without facts. The passion 
of love or of grief may well excuse some few 
lines of exaggeration in any poem, but cannot 
justify an entire book of non-naturalistic compo- 
sition. Had Petrarch sung thus of the Laura he 
has immortalized, his sonnets woultl have been 
long since forgotten. We may rest satisfied with 
following Nature, until all its available sources 
are exhausted. What are griffins, dragons, and 
salamanders but hideous abortions, incongruous 



336 NATURE-STUDY. 

compounds of existing animal creation, forming 
a mass of night-mare associations ? Is there any- 
thing about such fabulous creatures that has not 
its features in animals, birds, or fishes ? But it is 
supposed that although fancy may fail to mould 
something in clay worthy of being considered 
supernatural, it can at least reach beyond the 
present, during the Juror poeticus, and draw fire 
and spiritual influences from another world. 

These observations are offered as a prelude and 
an apology for differing from many who approve 
of the semi-spiritual and wholly sentimental style 
of Mr. Tennyson's In Memoriam. If it be only 
an experiment, it is an unhappy one, coming 
from such an authority, who cannot be considered 
otherwise than as teaching, while at the same 
time gratifying his readers through the medium 
of his highly tuneful muse. What then, for 
example, we would ask, may be the meaning of 
No. cxxiii., commencing : — 

That which we dare invoke to bless ; 

Our dearest faith ; our ghastliest doubt ; 

He, They, One, All ; within, without ; 
The Power in darkness whom we guess ; 

I found Him not in world or sun, 

Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye ; 

Nor thro' the questions men may try, 
The petty cobwebs we have spun. 

Four other verses follow in the same strain, 
remotely, uncertainly, and mistily suggesting 
something or other which the reader may, if so 
disposed, believe to be highly significant, and in- 
capable of expression in any other than such 
incomprehensible phraseology. But as it may be 
considered unjust to a poet to give so short an 



IN MEMORIAM. 337 

extract, we shall quote entire No. cxvm., as 
being a complete and shorter, if not more intelli- 
gible piece. 

I trust I have not wasted breath ; 
I think we are not wholly brain, 
Magnetic mockeries ; not in vain, 

Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death ; 

Not only cunning casts in clay : 
Let Science prove we are, and then 
What matters Science unto men, 

At least to me ? I would not say, 

Let him, the wiser man who springs 
Hereafter, up from childhood shape 
His action like the greater ape, 

But I was born to other things. 

In these lines allusion is made to science with- 
out science being brought forward, unless it be 
such as Lord Monboddo propounded ; and these 
verses are altogether displeasing from their appar- 
ently concealing some grand conception not to be 
caught by any neophyte before undergoing some 
mysterious ordeal or other. Either Homer, 
Shakspeare, Milton, Burns, and Wordsworth are 
not poets, or the foregoing is so mystical and 
contra-natural as not to belong to a high order 
of poetry ;* but if it is simply an experimental 
effort, it certainly exhibits a striking contrast to 
the results of correct Nature-Study. Talleyrand 
expressed his belief that language was given to 
man to enable him to conceal his thoughts, a 
strategical maxim, however, which cannot be too 
fastidiously shunned by the poet. Feeble as all 
man's attempts must necessarily be to reflect 
Nature in works of Art, no art fails so hopelessly 

* See Rev. C. Kingsley's views, quoted chap. i. p. 31. 

Z 



338 NATURE-STUDY. 

as that fostered by assuming something of the 
claim to the afflatus of a true necromancy. Now 
he who copies from Nature must be true to 
Nature ; but the pretender to the preternatural 
revels only in day and night dreams, and has but 
to give the rein to his imagination and fancy to 
produce a variety of sombre, sunny, and brilliant 
effects ' signifying nothing.' Even with the best 
models before them, poets, like painters, may 
often fail in distinctness of outline and expression. 
It is well known that no works were more 
pleasing to the engraver to copy than those of 
Turner, whose blending of colours, clouds, and 
figures was often marvellously suggestive of any- 
thing but what was actually intended by that 
wonderful master of light and shade. It is said 
that on one occasion the painter demanded to know 
why one of his figures had been engraved with 
wings. The only explanation that could be 
given was the very natural one that ' It looked 
so.' To which the artist replied, c Then let it 
remain,' although he had not himself intended to 
depict an angel ! Let it not be argued, however, 
that the more mist, the more majesty, sublimity, 
and grandeur. True, Nature has its mists, and 
we may occasionally see the horizon bound by 
an almost Alpine barrier — but one of clouds ; and 
dry valleys may appear like lakes, and trees seem 
to be growing independently of the earth. If 
we admire such deceptions we may trace in a 
damp, cracked, plastered wall, the most fantastic 
landscapes ; we may fancy among the glowing 
coals in the fire, strange faces and figures ; and 
on recovering from blindness ' see men as trees 



APOSTROPHE. 339 

walking.' And just as our ' eyes are made the 
fools of the other senses,' so may our reason be 
subjected to the illusions of the charmer who 
attunes his muse to sing in an uncouth strain. 
But with Nature for their guide neither poets 
nor their readers can possibly go far astray. 

It is said that Aristotle attributes to Pericles, 
employing the figure in his Funeral Oration, 
when making a comparison of the loss occasioned 
by the war, to the act of him who should take 
the Spring out of the year. We believe that 
such a figurative mode of expression has never 
been examined in the light we are about to 
adopt ; its bearing in Nature-Study, as we shall 
consider it, is evidently enhanced when we dis- 
cover its importance even when the object is 
only to reverse, as it were, the proper and rational 
use of information resulting from such a study. 
Yet we shall find that the most telling, lively, 
and piquant figures, and indeed their very exten- 
sion, depends on an enlarged knowledge of facts 
in Nature. Such figures of speech are highly 
attractive from their novelty, and render con- 
spicuous and important what might otherwise fall 
coldly and listlessly on the ear. 

Apostrophe. 

To Death. — 

i. Oh amiable, lovely death ! 

Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 

Arise from the couch of lasting night, 

Thou hate and terror to prosperity, 

And I will kiss thy detestable bones ; 

And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ; 

And ring these fingers with thy household worms ; 

i. King John, Act iii. sc. 4. 

Z 2 



34-0 NATURE-STUDY. 

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 
And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st, 
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, 
O, come to me ! 

Satire. 
Book-worm. — 

2. Come hither, boy, we'll hunt to-day 
The book-worm, ravening beast of prey, 

Through all the fields of wit he flies ; 
Dreadful his head with clustering eyes, 
With horns without, and tusks within, 
And scales to serve him for a skin. 
Observe him nearly, lest he climb 
To wound the bards of ancient time, 

* * * * 

See where his teeth a passage eat ; 

* * * * 

From leaf to leaf, from song to song, 
He draws the tadpole form along ; 

Insatiate brute, whose teeth abuse 
The sweetest servants of the Muse ! 

Brute-nature. — 

3. . Brutes find out where their talents lie : 

A bear will not attempt to fly; 

A founder'd horse will oft debate 

Before he tries a five-barr'd gate ; 

A dog by instinct turns aside, 

Who sees the ditch too deep and wide. 

But man we find the only creature, 

Who, led by Folly, combats Nature. 

Prey, Vermin. — 

3*. A prince, the moment he is crown'd, 

Inherits every virtue round, 

But once you fix him in a tomb, 

His virtues fade, his vices bloom ; 
* * * * 

Hobbes clearly proves that every creature 
Lives in a state of war by nature. 

2. T. Parnell, The Book-worm. 3. J. Swift, On Poetry 
A Rhapsody, 1733. 3*. Ibid. 



PREY, ETC. 341 

The greater for the smallest watch, 
But meddle seldom with their match. 
A whale of moderate size will draw 
A shoal of herrings down his maw ; 
A fox with geese his belly crams ; 
A wolf destroys a thousand lambs : 
But search among the rhyming race, 
The brave are worried by the base. 

The vermin only tease and pinch 
Their foes superior by an inch. 
So, naturalists observe, a flea 
Hath smaller fleas that on him prey ; 
And these have smaller still to bite 'em, 
And so proceed ad infinitum. 

From Flecknoe down to Howard's time, 

How few have reach'd the low sublime ! 

* * * * 

In bulk there are not more degrees, 
From elephants to mites in cheese, 
Than what a curious eye may trace 
In creatures of the rhyming race. 

* * :\i * 

For though, in nature, depth and height 

Are equally held infinite ; 

In poetry, the height we know ; 

'Tis only infinite below. 

A Critic. — 

4. Honey from silkworms who can gather, 

Or silk from the yellow bee ? 
The grass may grow in winter weather 
As soon as hate in me. 

Critics. — 

5. 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite. 

Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds. 
From slashing Bentley down to peddling Tibbalds : 
Each wight who reads not, and but scans and spells. 
Each word-catcher that lives on syllables, 
Even such small critics some regard may claim, 
Preserved in Milton's or in Shakspeares name. 
Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms 
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! 
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, 
But wonder how they possibly got there. 



4. Shelley, Lines to a Critic. 5. Pope's Satires. 



34 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

DULNESS. 

5*. See now, what Dulness and her sons admire ! 

Thence a new world, to nature's laws unknown, 
Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own : 
Another Cynthia her new journey runs, 
And other planets circle other suns. 
The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, 
Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies ; 
And last, to give the whole creation grace, 
Lo ! one vast egg produces human race. 

* * *- * 

Immortal Rich !* how calm he sits at ease, 

'Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease ; 

And, proud his mistress' order to perform, 

Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. B. iii. 
*■ * * * 

Now flamed the dog-star's unpropitious ray, 
Smote every brain, and wither'd every bay; 
Sick was the sun, the owl forsook his bower, 
The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour; 
Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night, 
To blot out order, and extinguish light, 
Of dull and venal a new world to mould, 
And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold. 

# * # •* 

Now to pure space lifts her ecstatic stare, 

Now running round the circle, finds it square. B. iv. 

The Stoics. — 

6. Beat out their brains in fight and study, 
To prove that virtue is a body ; 

That bonum is an animal, 

Made good with stout polemic brawl. 20. 

Woman. — 

7. Could we with ink the ocean fill, 

Were earth of parchment made ; 
Were every single stick a quill, 

Each man a scribe by trade ; 
To write the tricks of half the sex, 

Would drink that ocean dry. 
Gallants, beware, look sharp, take care ; 

The blind eat many a fly. 

5*. Dunciad. 6. Hudibras, Part II. canto ii. 7. Anon, 
A satire in imitation of Guarini. 

* John Rich, manager of Covent Garden Theatre. 



ROBBERY, ETC. 343 

Robbery. — 



Take wealth and lives together; 



Do villany, do, since you profess to do't, 
Like workmen : I'll example you with thievery. 
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun ; 
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
The moon into salt tears ; the earth's a thief, 
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
From general excrement : each thing's a thief, 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
Have uncheck'd theft. 



Hyperbole. 
Army. — 

9. As swarms of bees, that pour in ceaseless stream 
From out the crevice of some hollow rock, 
Now clustering, and anon 'mid vernal flowers, 
Some here, some there, in busy numbers fly; 

>!< >!; %z ;;; 

Great was the din ; and as the mighty mass 
Sat down, the solid earth beneath them groaned. 

10. [Agamemnon — commands the Greeks to war.] 

As when a wasting fire, on mountain tops, 
Hath seized the blazing woods, afar is seen 
The glaring light ; so, as they moved, to Heaven 525 
Flashed the bright glitter of their burnished arms. 

As various tribes of winged fowl, or geese, 
Or cranes, or long-necked swans, on Asian mead, 
Besides Cayster's stream, now here, now there, 
Disporting, ply their wings ; then settle down 530 
With clamorous noise, that all the mead resounds ; 
So to Scamander's plain, from tents and ships, 
Poured forth the countless tribes ; the firm earth 

groaned 
Beneath the tramp of steeds and armed men. 
Upon Scamander's flowery mead they stood, 535 
Unnumbered as the vernal leaves and flowers. 

Or as the multitudinous swarms of flies, 
That round the cattle-sheds in spring-tide pour. 



8. Timbn of Athens, Act iv. sc. 3. 9, 10. Lord 
Derby's Homer. 



344 NATURE-STUDY. 

Love. — 

first part. 

i. Over the mountains, 

And under the waves, 
Over the fountains 

And under the graves, 
Under floods which are deepest, 

Which do Neptune obey, 
Over rocks which are steepest, 

Love will find out the way. 

Where there is no place 

For the glow-worm to lie, 
Where there is no place 

For the receipt of a fly, 
Where the gnat dares not venture, 

Lest herself fast she lay, 

But if Love come he will enter, 

And find out the way. 
* #. * * 

SECOND PART. 

If the earth should part him, 

He would gallop it o'er ; 
If the seas should o'erthwart him, 

He would swim to the shore. 
Should his love become a swallow, 

Through the air to stray, 
Love will lend wings to follow, 

And will find out the way. 

There is no striving 

To cross his intent, 
There is no contriving 

His plots to prevent; 
But if once the message greet him, 

That his true love doth stay, 
If death should come and meet him, 

Love will find out the way. 

Mermaid. — 

2. Thou remember'st 

Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; 

i. Bell's Early Ballads: Truth's Integrity. 2. Mid- 
summer Night's Dream. 



OCEAN, ETC. 345 

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
To hear the sea-maid's music. 

That very time I saw, (but thou could'st not,) 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all-arm'd : a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 

It fell upon a little western flower, — 

Before, milk-white ; now purple with love's wound, — 

And maidens call it, love-in-idleness. 

Ocean grave. — 

3. Full fathoms five thy father lies ; 

Of his bones are coral made ; 
Those are pearls, that were his eyes : 

Nothing of him that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring their knell : 
Hark ! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell. 

Cesar. — 

4. Cassius. Why, man, he [Caesar] doth bestride the 

narrow world, 
Like a Colossus ; and we petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 

Blood. — 

5. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather 
The multitudinous sea incarnadine, 

Making the green — one red. Act ii. sc. 2. 

6. Lady M. Here's the smell of blood still : all the 
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. 
Oh ! oh ! oh ! Act iv. sc. 1. 

Discord. — 

7. Nay, had I the power, I should 

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, 
Uproar the universal peace, confound 

All unity on earth. Act iv. sc. 3. 

3. Tempest, Act 1, sc. 2. 4. Julius Ccesar, Act i. sc. 2. 
5, 6, 7. Macbeth. 



34 6 



NATURE-STUDY. 



A Mob. — 

8. . He that depends 

Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 

And hews down oaks with rushes. Act i. sc. i. 

Submission. — 

9. . My mother bows ; 

As if Olympus to a mole-hill should 

In supplication nod : Act v. sc. 3. 

Triumph. — 

1. Why, hark you ; 

The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, 
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, 
Make the sun dance. Act v. sc. 4. 

Orpheus. — 

2. For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews ; 
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, 
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 

Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 

3. Orpheus with his lute made trees, 
And the mountain-tops that freeze, 

Bow themselves, when he did sing. 
To his music, plants and flowers 
Ever spring : as sun, and showers 

There had made a lasting spring. 
Everything that heard him play, 
Even the billows of the sea, 

Hung their heads, and then lay by. Act iii. sc. 1, 

Speed. — 

4. O ! for a horse with wings !- 



(Milford-Haven) Why not I 

Glide thither in a day ? Act iii. sc. 2. 

Love's wishes. — 

5. If I had an hundred hearts 

Never should one stray from thee, 
If I had an hundred hearts 
Every one should feel thy darts. 

Oh, my dearest, &c. 

8, 9, 1. Coriolanus. 2. Two Gentlemen of Verona, 
Act iii. sc. 2. 3. King Henry VIII. 4. Cymbeline. 

5. Oxenford's French Songs; The Abbe de Lattaignant 's 
Wishes. 



BOMBAST AND IRONY. 347 

If an hundred eyes were mine, 

Thee alone those eyes would see ; 
If an hundred eyes were mine 
Every one on thee would shine. 

Oh, my dearest, &c. 

If an hundred tongues I had, 

They should speak of nought but thee ; 
If an hundred tongues I had, 
All should talk of thee, like mad. 

Oh, my dearest, &c. 

>£ ^ Sj< %. 

If five hundred souls you were 
You for her should rivals be, 
If five hundred souls you were 
All should love this beauty rare. 

Oh, my dearest, &c. 

Had you reach'd your hundredth year — 

Young with her would Nestor be, — 
Had you reach'd your hundredth year 
Spring through her would re-appear. 
Oh, my dearest, &c. 

Bombast and Irony. 

The Morn. — 

6. The sun had long since, in the lap 

Of Thetis, taken out his nap, 30 

And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn 
From black to red began to turn. 

Nature Inverted. — 

7. Figures ill pair'd, and similes unlike. 

How Time himself stands still at her [Dulness'] 

command, 
Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land, 
Here gay description iEgypt glads with showers, 
Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers ; 
Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen, 
There painted valleys of eternal green, 
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, 
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow. — B. I. 
* * * * 

And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke. 

A poet's form she placed before their eyes, 

And bade the nimblest racer seize the prize ; 

6. Hudibras, P. ii. c. 2. 7. The Dunciad. 



348 NATURE-STUDY. 



She form'd this image of well-bodied air ; 

With pert flat eyes she window'd well his head ; 

A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead. 

[Curl runs swift] 

As when a dab-chick waddles through the copse 

On feet and wings, and flies, and wades, and 

hops.— B. II. 

* * * * 

Thus he, for them a ray of reason stole, 
Half through the solid darkness of his soul ; 

Thence a new world, to nature's laws unknown, 

Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own : 

* * * * 

And other planets circle other suns. 

The forests dance, the rivers upwards rise, 

Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies ; 

And last, to give the whole creation grace, 

Lo ! one vast egg produces human race. — B. III. 

The foregoing alludes to certain dramas of 
which Dr. Faustus was the subject. 

Proverbs. 

Dreams. — 

1. Whoso regardeth dreams is like him that catcheth at 

a shadow, and followeth after the wind. 

Greek Proverbs. — 

2. He ploughs the air. 

He washes the Ethiopian. 
He measures a twig. 
He demands tribute of the dead. 
He holds the serpent by the tail. 
He takes the bull by the horns. 
He makes clothes for fishes. 
He catches the wind with a net. 
He changes a fly into an elephant. 
He takes the spring from the year. 
He is making ropes of sand. 
He is ploughing a rock. 
He is sowing in the sand. 
He takes oil to extinguish fire. 
He chastises the dead. 

1. Ecclesiasticus xxxiv. 2. 



PROVERBS. 349 

He seeks water in the sea. 

He puts a rope to the eye of a needle. 

He draws water with a sieve. 

He gives straw to his dog, and bones to his ass. 

He numbers the waves. 

He paves the meadow. 

He paints the dead. 

He seeks wool on an ass. 

He digs the well at the river. 

He roasts snow in a furnace. 

He is building a bridge over the sea. 

Persian Proverbs. — 

3. He gives water from the ocean. (From an abundant 

source — not his own). 
He holds the wind in his hand. (Can retain 

nothing.) 
The sun cannot be hid with clay. (Something 

self-evident.) 
You cannot make a hole in the sky. (Impossibili- 
ties). 
A painting on water. (Labour in vain, transitory). 
He binds the water with thread. (Labour in vain, 

transitory.) 
To pound water in a mortar. (Labour in vain, 

transitory). 
Should even the water of life fall from the clouds, 

you would never get fruit from the willow. 
He hides fire with straw. 

Fire in winter is better than the damask rose. 
He wants an eagle's tear. (Something difficult or 

impossible.) 
If you sow thorns you cannot cut out jasmine. 
If you stare at the sun it will hurt your eyes and 

not the sun. 
The breath of a gnat will not put out the sun. 

HlNDOOSTANEE. 

4. The river flowing upwards. (Any improbability). 

Night. — 

5. (Malcolm says,) The night is long that never finds 

the day. 

3, 4. T. Roebuck's Collection of Proverbs, 1824. 
5. Macbeth. 



35 O NATURE-STUDY. 

Rabelais describing what he saw concerning 
Queen Whim's officers, states that : — 

A great number made blackamoors white, 
Others ploughed the land with foxes. 
Others extracted water out of pumice-stone. 
Others sheared asses, and thus got long wool. 
Others pitched nets to catch the wind ; and 
Others cut fire into stakes with a knife, and drew 
water with a fish-net. 

Swift, following the example set by his great 
prototype, gives us an account in his Gullivers 
Travels of the grand Academy of Lagado. 
Of one man he saw there he assures us : — 

He had been eight years upon a project for 
extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers. 

Another was at work to calcine ice into gunpowder, 
and had a treatise concerning the malleability 
of fire. 

Another was substituting spiders for silkworms ; 
and so in like manner equally vain were the 
schemes of others all equally deluded. 

Fable, etc. 

Forest and Floods. — 

6. He answered me, and said, I went into a forest 

into a plain, and the trees took counsel, (13.) 

And said, Come, let us go and make war against 
the sea, that it may depart away before us, and 
that we may make us more woods. (14.) 

The floods of the sea in like manner took counsel, 
and said, Come, let us go up and subdue the woods 
of the plain, that there also we may make us 
another country. (15.) 

The thought of the wood was in vain, for the fire 
came and consumed it. (16.) 

The thought of the floods of the sea came like- 
wise to nought, for the sand stood up and stopped 
them. (17.) 

The Almighty. — 

7. O Lord thou bearest rule, of every wood of 

the earth, and of all the trees thereof, thou hast 
chosen thee one only vine : (23.) 

6. 2 Esrfras iv. 7. Ibid. v. 



FABLE, ETC. 35 I 

And of all lands of the whole world thou hast 
chosen thee one pit : and of all the flowers there of 
one lily : (24.) 

And of all the depths of the sea thou hast filled thee 
one river : ( 2 5«) 

And of all the fowls that are created thou hast 
named thee one dove : and of all the cattle that 
are made thou hast provided thee one sheep. (26.) 
* # * * 

And he said unto me, Number me all things that 
are not yet come, gather me together the drops 
that are scattered abroad, make me the flowers 
green again that are withered. (36.) 

Open me the places that are closed, and bring me 
forth the winds that in them are shut up, shew 
me the image of a voice : and then I will declare 
to thee the thing thou labourest to know. (37.) 

Flint and Steel. — 

8. Cruelly bent, it chanced the Flint 

Ill-treated the Steel one day ; 
And wounding, gave it many a dint, 
To draw its sparks away. 

When laid aside, this angry cried 
To that, ' What would your value be 

Without my help ?' the Flint replied, 
1 As much as yours, sir, but for me.' 

This lesson I write, my friends to incite ; 

Their talents, however great, 
That they must study with them unite, 

To duly cultivate. 

The Flint gives light with help of the Steel, 
And study alone will talent reveal ; 
For neither suffice if found apart, 
Whatever the talent or the art. 

Typical, etc. 

The Universe. — 

9. Canst thou bind together the brilliant Pleiades ? 
Or canst thou loose the bands of Orion ? 

Canst thou bring the stars of the Zodiac in their 
season ? 

8. J. Kennedy's Poets of Spain : Tomas de Iriarti, The 
Fluit and Steel. 9. Herder's History of Hebrew Poetry : 
Job xxviii. 



35 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

And lead forth the Bear with her young ? 

Knowest thou the laws of the heavens above ? 

Or hast thou given a decree to the earth beneath ? 

Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, 

And enter into them clothed with floods ? 

Canst thou send the lightnings that they shall go, 

And say to thee, ' Here are we' ? 

Who gave understanding to the flying clouds ? 

Or intelligence to the meteors of the air ? 

Who by his wisdom hath numbered the drops of rain ? 

Hath sent down the gentle showers from heaven, 

And watered the dust, that it might unite, 

And the clods of the earth cleave together ? 

The Almighty. — 

i. Wilt thou find out the wisdom of Eloah ? 
Wilt thou fathom the perfection of Shaddai ? 
It is high as heaven, what wilt thou do ? 
Deeper than the abyss, what dost thou know ? 
Its measure is longer than the earth, 
And broader than the sea. 

Golden Age. — 

2. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, 
The leopard shall lie down with the kid, 

The calf, the young lion, and the fatling together, 
And a little child shall lead them. 

The cow and the bear shall feed quietly ; 
Their young ones shall lie down together, 
And the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 

The suckling shall play on the hole of the asp. 
The weaned child on the cockatrice's den ; 
There shall be none to hurt nor destroy 
In all my holy mountain, 

For the earth is full of the knowledge of Jehovah, 
As the waters cover the sea. 

Wisdom's Glory. — 

3. I was exalted like a cedar in Libanus, and as a cypress 

tree upon the mountains of Hermon. (13.) 

I was exalted like a palm tree in En-gaddi, and as a 
rose plant in Jericho ; as a fair olive tree in a plea- 
sant field, and grew up as a plane tree by the 
water. (14O 

1. Herder's History of Hebrew Poetry ; jfob xi. 7-9. 
2. Ibid., Isaiah xi. 6. 3. Ecclesiasticus xxiv. 



THE UNSEARCHABLE, ETC. ^53 

I gave a sweet smell like cinnamon and aspalathus, 
and I yielded a pleasant odour like the best myrrh, 
as galbanum, and onyx, and sweet storax, and as 
the fume of frankincense in the tabernacle. (15.) 

As the turpentine tree I stretched out my branches, 
and my branches are the branches of honour and 
grace. ( x 6.) 

[ Wisdom's fruit. ] 
As the vine brought I forth pleasant savour, and my 
flowers are the fruit of honour and riches. (17.) 
The Unsearchable. — 

4. Weigh me the fire ; or canst thou find 
A way to measure out the wind ; 
Distinguish all those floods that are 
Mixt in that watery theatre ; 

And taste thou them as saltless there 
As in their channel first they were ; 
Tell me the people that do keep 
Within the kingdoms of the deep ; 
Or fetch me back that cloud again, 
Beshivered into seeds of rain ; 
Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears 
Of corn when summer shakes his ears ; 
Show me that world of stars, and whence 
They noiseless spill their influence ; 
This if thou canst, then show me Him 
That rides the glorious Cherubim. 

Intercourse. — 

5. Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, 
So well converse, nor with the ox the ape ; 
Worse then can man with beast, and least of all. 

Seasonable. — 

6. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
When neither is attended ; and I think, 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 

How many things by season season'd are 
To their right praise, and true perfection ! — 
* * * * 

This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, 
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day, 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

4. Herrick, God unsearchable. 5. Paradise Lost. 6. Mer- 
chant of Venice, Act v. sc. 1. 

2 A 



354 NATURE-STUDY. 

Mind. — 

7. For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; 

And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
So honour peereth in the meanest habit. 
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 
Because his feathers are more beautiful ? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 

8. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff, 
Which weighs upon the heart ? A. v. s. 3. 

Self-Deception. — 

9. All places that the eye of heaven visits 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. 

[He further advises :] 
Suppose the singing birds, musicians ; 
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence 

strew'd, 
The flowers, fair ladies ; A. i. s. 3. 

Contrasts. — 

1. The sparrow is no swallow, the gad-fly is no bee, 
The crowfoot is no rose, and no grape the gooseberry; 
No brass is gold, no bran as honey-comb is sweet, 
And summer when it comes the thrush is pleased to 

greet ; 
The ducats of the rich, however bright and many, 
Need never blush to own the poor man's single 

penny. 

Belief. — 

2. Although the vine its fruit deny, 

Although the olive yield no oil, 
The withering fig-tree droop and die, 

The field elude the tiller's toil ; 
The empty stall no herd afford, 

And perish all the bleating race, — 
Yet will I triumph in the Lord, 

The God of my salvation praise. 

7. Taming of the Shrew, A. iv. s. 3. 8. Macbeth. 9. King 
Richard II. 1. Bowring's Magyar Poems; Hungarian 
Popular Song, The Difference. 2. C. Wesley, Unbelief 
Repelled. 



NON-NATURAL. 355 

Non-natural.- — ■ 

8. Which state were drearier of a dreary twain — 
Eternal sunshine or eternal rain ? 

g. When the waters take to running up-hill, 
Then will they prosper that sit still. 

1. Why do not birds and fishes rise from earth ? 
And man and trees from water take their birth ? 
Why do not herds and flocks drop down from air ? 
Wild creatures and untam'd spring everywhere ? 
The same tree would not rise from the same root, 
The cherry would not blush in the same fruit ; 
Nought fixt and constant be, but every year 
Whole Nature change, and all things all things bear. 

* * ■* •* 

Besides, why is ripe corn in summer found ? 
Why not bald winter with fresh roses crown'd ? 
Why not his cups o'erflow with new press'd wine, 
But sweaty autumn only treads the Vine ? 

* x * * 

Besides, no need of time for things to grow, 
For that would be a measure e'en too slow ; 
But in one instant, if from nought began, 
A shrub might be a tree, a boy a man. 

2. The winter bears no buds, 
The summer yields no ice : 

The fire which young hearts floods 
The old man feels not twice. 

else had the sprin< 



Perpetual smil'd on earth with verdant flow'rs, 
Equal in days and nights, except in those 
Beyond the polar circles ; to them day 
Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun 
* * * * 

Had rounded still th' horizon, and not known 
Or east or west, which had forbid the snow 
From cold Estotiland, and south so far 
Beneath Magellan. 

4. Iago. But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. A. i. s. 1. 

Oth. No, my heart is turned to stone ; I strike it, and 
it hurts my hand. * * * * O, she will sing the 
savageness out of a bear! A. iv. s. 1. 

8, 9. Thompson's Sales Attici, Euripides. 1. Creech's 
Lucretius, B. I. 2. W. R. Alger's Eastern Poetry. 
3. Paradise Lost. 4. Othello. 

2 A 2 



356 NATURE-STUDY. 

5. O man ! whose weakness dare rebel 
Against the Almighty's strength, draw nigh 

And listen. 

* * * 

Go ! hook the huge leviathan 

* - # • * 

A millstone is his heart — his row 

Of teeth like sickles, threat'ning still ; 

Who shall attack him 

His eyes with, burning fury roll, 
As in a forge the scarlet coal. 

6. And shall we own such judgments ? no — as soon 
Seek roses in December — ice in June. 

The Impossible. — 

7. Who can number the sand of the sea, and the drops 

of rain, and the days of eternity ? 

8. Who seeks to rival Pindar's fame 
With waxen wings, lulus flies ; 
To give, like Icarus, a name 

To seas, where quenched his folly lies. 

9. The wise man will not roam afar 

For what at home his finding naught can hinder : 

He will not try to pluck a star 

To kindle with its light a piece of tinder. 

in vain would you seek from a garden of 



willows 
To collect fruit as beneath them you roam. 

2. It is the senselessness of fools, in opposition to 

wisdom, 
That, in the heat of summer, raiseth a tower of snow. 

3. I asked Philosophy how I should 
Have of her the thing I would; 
She answered me when I was able, 
To make the water malleable, 

Or else the way if I could find, 
To measure out a yard of wind : 

5. Bowring's Russian Poets, Lomonossov's Ode. 6. 
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 7. Ecclesiasticus i. 2. 

8. Lord Derby's Translation of Horace, Od., iv. 2. 

9. W. R. Alger's Eastern Poetry. 1. Ibid. 2. Raverty's 
Afghan Poetry. 3. Ashmole's Theatricum Chemicum, 
1652. 



THE IMPOSSIBLE. 3^7 

Then shalt thou have thine own desire, 
When thou canst weigh an ounce of fire : 
Unless that thou canst do these three, 
Content thyself, thou get'st not me. 

4. The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, 
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; 
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains : 
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns. 

5. [Biron.] 

Why should I joy in an abortive birth ? 

At Christmas I no more desire a rose, 

Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows ; 

But like of each thing, that in season grows. 

6. [Hermia.] 1 will believe as soon, 

This whole earth may be bored ; and that the moon 

May through the centre creep, and so displease 

Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes. A. iii. s. 2. 

7. To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet, 

To smooth the ice, or add another hue 

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 

Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. A. iv. s. 2. 

8. [Duke of York.] , and take from Time 

His charters and his customary rights ; 

Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day. 

9. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes 

Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry. 

1. Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare imagination of a feast ? 

Or wallow naked in December snow, 

By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? A. i. s. 3. 

2. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, 

To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; 
Or to dive into the bottom of the deep, 
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. 



5. Love's Labour Lost. 6. Midsummer Night's Dream. 
7. King John, Act. iv. sc. 9. 8. King Richard II. 
9. Ibid. 1. Ibid. 2. King Henry IV. 1st Part. A. i. s. 3. 



358 



NATURE-STUDY. 



3. {Aaron says) — 

For all the water in the ocean 

Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, 

Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 

4. And thou all-shaking thunder, 

Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 

5. Go, wondrous creature ! mount where science guides, 
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides ; 
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, 

Correct old Time, and regulate the sun ; 

Love, &c. — 

6. Like winter rose, and summer ice, 
Her joys are still untimely ; 
Before her hope, behind remorse, 
Fair first, in fine unseemly. 

Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, 
Leave off your idle pain ; 
Seek other mistress for your minds, 
Love's service is in vain. 

7. First shall the heavens want starry light, 
The seas be robbed of their waves, 

The day want sun, and sun want bright, 

The night want shade, 

The April flowers, and leaves, and tree, 
Before I false my faith to thee. 

First shall the top of highest hill 
By humble plains be overpry'd, 
* * * * 

And fish forsake the water glide, 
And Iris lose her colour'd weed, 
Before I false thee at thy need. 

First Time shall stay his stayless race, 
And Winter bless his brows with corn, 
And Snow bemoisten July's face, 
And Winter spring, and Summer mourn, 

Before my pen, 

Cease to recite thy sacred name. 

8. Mala. If all the pleasures were distill'd 
Of every flower in every field, 

3. Titus Andronicus. 4. King Lear. 5. Pope's Essay 
on Man. 6. R. Southwell, Love's servile Lot. 7. Dr. T. 
Lodge, Rosander's Sonetto. 8. Ben Jonson, From The 
Penates. 



LOVE, ETC. 359 

And all that Hybla's hives do yield, 
Were into one broad mazer fill'd ; 
If, thereto, were added all the gums, 
And spice that from Panchaia comes, 
The odour that Hydaspes lends, 
Or Phoenix proves before she ends ; 
If all the air my Flora drew, 
Or spirit that Zephyre ever blew ; 
Were put therein ; and all the dew 
That every rosy morning knew ; 
Yet all diffused upon this bower, 
To make one sweet detaining hour, 
Were much too little 

9. Fond that I am to ask ! whoe'er 

Did yet see thought ? or silence hear ? 
Safe from the search of human eye 
These arrows (as their ways are) fly: 

The flights of angels part 

Not air with so much art ; 

And snows on streams, we may 

Say, louder fall than they. 

1 . They meet with but unwholesome springs, 

And summers which infectious are, 
They hear but when the mermaid sings, 

And only see the falling star, 
Who ever dare 
Affirm no woman chaste and fair. 

2. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
Thou would'st as soon 'go kindle fire with snow, 

As seek to quench the fire of love with words, sc. 7. 

3. Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells, 

And mussels grow on every tree, 
Whan frost and snaw sail warm us aw, 
Then sail my love prove true to me. 

4. And I will luve thee still, my dear, 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 



9. W. Cartwright, Love's Darts. 1. W. Habington's 
Poem. 2. Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act ii. 3. Burns, 
Lady BothwelVs Lament. 4. Ibid., A red, red Rose. 



360 NATURE-STUDY. 

5. The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw, 
The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, 
The frost may freeze the deepest sea ; 

But an auld man shall never daunton [subdue] me. 

6. Bind the sea to slumber stilly, 
Bind the odour of the lily, 
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, 
Then bind love to last for ever ! 

•x- * * # 

Can you keep the bee from ranging, 
Or the ring-dove's neck from changing ? 
No ! nor fettered Love from dying 
In the knot there's no untying. 

7. A weary lot is thine, fair maid, 

A weary lot is thine ! 
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid 
And press the rue for wine. 
* * * * 

The morn is merry June, I trow, 

The rose is budding fain ; 
But she shall bloom in winter snow 

Ere we two meet again. 

We have thus before us a variety of poetical 
specimens headed Apostrophe, Satire, Hyperbole, 
Bombast, Didactic, Proverbial, Fable, and Typical. 
The poet's references to Nature in these examples 
are rather for contrast than for any descriptive 
purpose; his form of expression is therefore 
generally as curt as any proverbial saying. Mere 
negation would not come within the scope of 
our present criticism, as when Mrs. Hemans de- 
scribes The Palm Tree as an exotic, thus : — 

It waved not through an eastern sky, * * * 
It was not fanned by southern breeze, * * * 
Nor did its graceful shadows sleep 
O'er stream of Afric, lone and deep ; 

all which is merely allusive to its exiled state, 
and throughout entirely natural. 

5. Burns, The blude-red Rose. 6. T. Campbell, Song. 
7, Sir W. Scott, The Rover. 



NEGATIVE VIEWS. 36 1 

Sometimes we find poets using negative exam- 
ples from Nature in a comparative sense, as in 
Paradise Lost, in allusion to ' smiles ' : — 



this sweet intercourse 

Of looks and smiles ; for smiles from reason flow, 
To brutes deny'd, 

Here, as in similar instances, we have no more 
than the plain statement of some undeniable fact, 
unconnected with any such suggestion as would 
occur were we to say : c When brutes shall smile,' 
&c, thus entirely altering the mode of applying 
some obvious fact derived from Nature. 

There are frequent examples among our older 
poets which it were hypercritical to notice had 
they not been adopted as authority for extending 
such fanciful improvements on Nature. Shak- 
speare says : — 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, 

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. 

Thomas Gray, in The Progress of Poesy, 
pleasingly enough deludes us with : — 

A thousand rills their mazy progress take : 
The laughing flowers, that round them blow, 
Drink life and fragrance as they flow. 

And so likewise in Thomson's Seasons, describing 
Spring, the poet says : — 

the landscape laughs around. 

Even Wordsworth expresses himself in a way 
that demands a pause for reflection when, in his 
Intimations of Immortality he suggests that : — 

Custom hangs upon us, with a weight 
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life. 



362 NATURE-STUDY. 

We almost unconsciously exclaim, 4 Heavy as 
frost 5 ! 

A modern writer, treating on Oriental poetry, 
alludes to certain characteristic specimens as — 
c sparkling with splendour of imaginative genius, 
and as odorous with the fragrance of exquisite 
sensibility as though they had been strained 
through starry strata and the musky loam of 
Paradise.' The straining here is most unques- 
tionable, though not precisely of the quality 
premeditated ; but we take serious objection to 
the filtering through c loam ' or slime, how- 
ever 'musky,' and have no faith in 'starry 
strata.' 

Some poems are throughout so purely fanciful 
that forms of treatment, otherwise objectionable, 
are unhesitatingly accepted by every cultivated 
mind as peculiarly judicious, tasteful, and beau- 
tiful. For we must all admit that there is much 
in every art which is ornamental without being 
strictly adherent to Nature. But there is a 
grand medium even in the use of ornament, 
well expressed in the one word — Chaste. 
There may be much difficulty in uniting the 
chaste with the ornamental appertaining to 
Nature, but therein lies its very excellency 
when attained. Indeed there is but one step 
from the gracefully ornamental to the absurdly 
grotesque. 

When the non-natural is adopted in any piece 
employing imagination and fancy, there should 
readily appear to be at least an approximate 
connection. Whatever we find non-natural in 
Shelley's Sensitive Flant (p. 148, 4,) is not 



THE NEGATIVE, MISUSED. 363 

repellant to our common understandings, and we 
are pleased with fanciful resemblances, and 
cherish them as visions of fairy-land. 

We accept without restraint the idea of the 
flowers — 

Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess, 
Till they die of their own dear loveliness. 

Nor have we occasion to feel grave doubts about 
the hyacinth — 

Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew 
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, 
It was felt like an odour within the sense ; 

Nor to question respecting the rose whether — 

The soul of her beauty and love lay bare. 

The following example, however, from Ten- 
nyson's Adelciine is far from being in accordance 
with this view of the use of the non-natural 
even in the lightest forms of poetry : — 

Hast thou heard the butterflies 
What they say betwixt their wings ? (p. 292, 8.) 

This is neither tradition, fable, natural his- 
tory, nor ever so remotely conceivable ; it is a 
fiction without the slightest foundation ; it is 
fantastical from its being without even a shadow 
of possibility, and therefore partakes of the 
character of a merely forced conceit, than which 
nothing is more to be avoided in the exercise of 
imagination and fancy. 

Poets find negative views of Nature to be 
available in a variety of compositions, as already 
noticed, but particularly in Satire, Hyperbole, 
and Bombast. It was, therefore, much employed 



364 NATURE-STUDY. 

by such poets as Shakspeare, Swift, Pope, Butler, 
and Byron ; and by Rabelais, and other satirists 
among the moderns. It also enters into numerous 
proverbs, fables, and parables, both sacred and 
profane. 

In the typical employment of the negative or 
non-natural strain, the sacred Scriptures afford 
some remarkable examples from the poetry of 
the Hebrews ; and it was impossible but that 
such noble effusions should find many imitators 
in modern songs, psalms, and hymns. But our 
own great dramatist excels in many adaptations 
of this style, appearing equally successful in 
each ; as in The Tempest : — 

The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack* behind : 

Our arrangement of poetical specimens em- 
ploying what we term The impossible, appears 
to offer a strange subject for Nature-Study ; yet 
we find that much skill and management is re- 
quired to produce any similar novelty that shall 
not verge on sheer bombastic composition. We 
are introduced to counting drops of rain, pluck- 
ing down a star, drinking the ocean dry, and the 
like. But the same tone and style run through- 
out the numerous subjects associated under the 
general division of Negative and Non-natural 



* According to Lord Bacon : ' The winds which move 
the clouds above,' are designated the rack. 



THE IMPOSSIBLE. 365 

views of Nature ; where Nature in all its in- 
tegrity has to be carefully and faithfully studied, 
to be, as here shown, inverted and misconstrued 
for the purpose of producing intensified effect on 
a reader's mind. 



( 3^ 



Chapter XL 

Miscellaneous observations ; peculiar applications of 
Nature ; assimilating literary labours with external ap- 
pearances in Nature ; religious appropriations of Nature ; 
the unlovely or ugly ; amusing use of platitudes ; truth 
and fiction in serious compositions ; climate and taste ; 
concluding remarks. 

A few miscellaneous observations may be very 
usefully thrown together in reference to matters 
that could not properly have been included in 
the preceding classification. 

In early poetry we sometimes meet with al- 
lusions to Nature differing widely from modern 
taste, and which are yet not too remotely con- 
nected to attract our attention. The examples 
we now present are from the Metrical Hymns 
and Homilies of Epbraem Syrus, selected and 
translated from the original Syriac by the Rev. 
Henry Burgess, 1853. The on 'y pi ece we can 
quote from is a homily entitled The Mystery of 
the Trinity, its analogies in Nature, and their 
explicableness. 

Who hath ever accustomed 
His mouth to the burning flame ? 
Or his palate to fiery heat 
Which never hath been tasted ? 



Or,- 



The sun passeth through a transparent vase 
Into the midst of the water in it, 
And generates in the cold element 
The warmth of fire : 



METRICAL HYMNS, ETC. 367 

the ray is not drowned, 

Neither is the water divided ; 

Or- 

Gold is a single substance, 
A flower is threefold ; 
Stone is a single substance, 
But fire is threefold ; 
For flame, and heat, and light 
Are mingled in it. 

Or- 

The clouds are more exalted 

Than the vapours beneath them, 

The heavens than both of them, 

And the heaven of heavens is still higher. 

The low mountains 

Of this creation are high 

To the dwellers in the dust beneath them. 

Different to any other use of Nature than 
the methods already discussed is that of taking 
some broad feature of actual Nature, or its ap- 
pearances or phenomena, to illustrate some mode 
of human action. As when a poet finds in open 
Nature such features as accord with some pe- 
culiarities in his literary labours. Thus Drayton 
invokes the Muse that : — 

These things so in my song, I naturally may show ; 
Now as the mountain high ; then as the valley low ; 
Some easy passage raptured to translate, 
My sole delight. 

Referring to Allan Ramsay's Epistles, 1728, 
there is one, remarks Campbell, addressed to the 
poet Somerville. Professing to write from Na- 
ture more than Art, he compares the rude style 
which he loved and practised, to a neglected 
orchard, which to him he confesses to be : — 



a Paradise, 



Compared to prime cut plats and nice, 



368 NATURE-STUDY. 

Where Nature has to Art resigned, 
And all looks stiff, mean, and confined.* 

In like manner, Taylor, in his Notes from 
Books, remarking on Wordsworth's style, says 
that he does not claim for The Excursion — 

A mantling and sparkling of poetic effervescence in every 
page and line. In a poem upon so large a scale (he con- 
siders) every genuine poet is aware that some parts should 
be bordering upon prose, some absolutely prosaic. That 
is, rise and fall, ebb and flow, light and shade, — moorland 
and meadow and garden ground, — will be measured out in 
due proportion by the author of a great poem. 

Strange liberties are taken by well-meaning 
writers who attempt the spiritualizing of Nature. 
A quaint and elaborate instance will be found in 
The Spiritual Use of an Orchard, or Garden of 
Fruit Trees , by Ralph Austen, 1657, re P rm ted 
1 847. At page 249, we read : — 

The 50th observation in Nature. Some wild and un- 
grafted trees bear fruits very like to those that are ingrafted 
in shape and colour, so that men often mistake the one for 
the other. 

This shadows out to us this proposition, that the works of 
formal hypocrites are (in many things) very like the works 
of true Christians. 

In the last chapter of his work, entitled Soul 
in Nature, H. C. Oersted considers ' The un- 
beautiful in Nature,' concluding with the obser- 
vation, ' If he has comprehended the case 
correctly, then Ugliness, as likewise, in a certain 
sense, Evil, becomes a finite condition ; on the 
other hand, that which is essentially Beautiful is 
Eternal.' 

Admitting the c essentially beautiful ' in Na- 
ture, what, we would ask, is the c essentially ' 
ugly ? To call the smallest of the Almighty's 

* See page 136. 



UGLINESS. 369 

works either deformed or ugly is strong lan- 
guage, embodying a sentiment from which we 
must entirely dissent. 

If we admit the term ' ugly ' as relating to 
whatever does not attain to our own standard of 
the Beautiful, then, indeed, it has its use in a 
confined circle of virtuosi. But in a world-wide 
sense it is inappropriate. The students of Nature 
and of science acknowledge no such phrase. 
They find that not mankind alone, but all ani- 
mate and inanimate creation is ' fearfully and 
wonderfully made.' 

By ugliness we can only mean whatever is 
disagreeable and repulsive from its want of con- 
formity to our individual tastes, the result of 
education and early association. Had we never 
seen a creature without arms or hands we might 
have considered birds as ugly monsters ; or in 
like manner had we never seen one without legs, 
arms, hands, or feet, we might have thought 
fish frightfully ugly ; whereas, having been ac- 
customed to see such creatures, we should now 
consider any reversing of these conditions as 
furnishing examples of a lusus nature. It is a 
vulgar notion that, having fixed our own es- 
timate of the sublime and beautiful, we may 
assign to certain objects in Nature the position of 
being low and degraded, and to other objects the 
distinctive character of being supremely ugly. 
Those who adopt this opinion, do not reflect 
that their assumed standard would require re- 
adjusting under every changing clime, because, 
so to speak, it would be the arbitrary standard 
of fashion and not the reliahle standard of truth, 

2 B 



37° NATURE-STUDY. 

— that is, of truth to Nature, which satisfies 
now, as it has from the Creation, people of 
all countries and every clime. It may be dif- 
ficult to conceive the abstract idea of beauty in 
Nature, from its antagonism to our early ac- 
quired tastes ; but speaking of Nature simply as 
the work of Almighty power, we must conclude 
that, the least of God's creatures far excels in 
perfection, beauty of design, and adaptation of 
parts to particular ends, the most exquisite pro- 
ductions of Art. 

The imperfection of Art is, so to speak, self- 
confessed in the fact that it is obliged to select 
from Nature for painting the most pleasing 
scenery ; for sculpture the most perfect figures, 
with graceful grouping of them ; for music the 
most harmonious sounds ; and for poetry a 
variety of expression by which to describe and 
to paint in words that which affords delight 
whether in human or in external nature. And 
Art asserts as the privilege of Art, to declare that 
it only seeks and employs the Beautiful in Nature, 
and that all else is inappropriate, rude, ugly, or 
abhorrent. That which may be inappropriate, 
because unbeautiful, in Art, is not, therefore, to 
be degraded and reckoned ugly in Nature, else 
in the Antediluvian World Nature's entire system 
was one of animal ugliness. 

The impress of mind on poetical conceptions 
and compositions is in nothing more remarkable 
than in their evident climatic features. There 
are characteristic differences between the poetical 
productions of England, Scotland, Ireland, and 
Wales, a nationality quite as obvious as the 



PLATITUDES. 37 1 

respective dialects ; in like manner we find dis- 
tinctive features in French, German, Russian, 
and Oriental poetry ; solemn, grave, or gay, and 
embodying sentiments and metaphors, the result 
of popular feeling, national institutions, and 
peculiarities of climate. 

The next poetical specimen which we shall 
give is amusing from its very platitudes, as 
offered in a humorous song by Armand 
Charlemagne,* with well-sustained gravity : — 

Brothers, 'tis a happy age, 

This good age in which we live ; 

* * * 

Bolder than Philoxenus, 

Down the veil of truth I tear ; 

Friends, my revelations hear. 

Light sometimes from candles comes ; 

Water serves our thirst to slake ; 
Nipping cold our fingers numbs ; 

Grapes are gathered in September ; 
June is mostly very hot ; 

Nought more cold than ice we know ; 

* * * 

Human pleasures come and go, 
Mortals all must feel Time's sickle. 

Not the Danube is the Oise ; 
Neither is the day the night ; 



If in summer you fell trees, 
Ev'ry one can pick up leaves. 

Crabs advance by going back. 



* See The Illustrated Book of French Songs, translated 
by J. Oxenford, 8vo, 1855. 

2 B 2 



372 NATURE-STUDY. 



In your garden rhubarb plant, 
And you'll find no turnips come. 

* * * 

* * * 
From the head the feet are far, 

On the neck the former stands. 

* * # 

* * * 
Heavy rain will make us wet ; 

Flints composed of stones are found 

Woods of trees are sometimes full 
Streams with fish will oft abound 

Frogs are seen in many a pool. 
At a rustle will the hare 

Start, as 'twere a mighty shock ; 
Moved by every breath of air 

Is the fickle weathercock. 

Learning is not common sense ; 

Wisdom is a prize I hold : 

* * 

Every chatterbox may find 

Deaf men are not wearied soon ; 

'Tis peculiar to the blind 

That they cannot see at noon. 



How far the license traditionally accorded to 
poetical writers may be safely carried in serious 
pieces, is open to discussion. Thomson in his 
Seasons cannot claim the same extent of licence 
which in the Castle of Indolence is in keeping 
with the nature of the poem. Therefore, 
although it may appear to be hypercritical to 
object to the subjoined passage, compensated as 
it is by its beautiful conception and execution, 
we may remark that without even the support 
of the authority of fabulous histories, he 
attributes the beauty of the diamond and other 
gems to the sun's influence, thus : — 



NON-NATURAL. 373 

The unfruitful rock itself, impregned by thee 
In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 

The lively Diamond drinks thy purest rays. 

* * * * 

At thee the Ruby lights its deepening glow. 

* * * * 

From thee the Sapphire, solid ether, takes 

Its hue cerulean. 

The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine. 

With thy own smile the yellow Topaz burns ; 

Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, 

When first she gives it to the southern gale, 

Than the green Emerald shows. 

Thick through the whitening Opal plays thy beams. 

The only apology for such plausible, but 
unsupported interpretations of Nature, is their 
decided originality, their daring, and their 
presenting sufficient analogy not to offend our 
common sense, or even our cultivated com- 
prehension of the world around us, with its 
varied products and appearances. 

Every country gives evidence in its poetry of 

some distinguishing feature. For example, no 

English, French, or German poet would venture 

to adopt the language of one of the most 

popular songs of the Persian Turks, translated 

as follows : — 

One cannot gather pomegranates under the walls of a 
fortress ; not everybody is bold enough to speak to that 
beauty, so much like a green-headed duck. . . .* 

We shall not pursue these investigations farther, 
but proceed, in another chapter, to take a retro- 
spective view of what has been advanced, and 
to lay down the principle on which the facts 
brought to light by the poetical examples we 
have adduced are based, and show how the same 

* Specimens of the Popular Poetry of Persia. By Alex. 
Chodzko. 8vo. 1842. 



374 NATURE-STUDY. 

principle may be worked out and extended to a 
degree not previously contemplated. We trust 
it will be no occasion of disappointment to find 
that the method, with its systematic appoint- 
ment, is not one dependent on natural philosophy : 
is not, in short, scientific ; but appeals directly 
to the common sense of every citizen of the 
world who has attained an average amount of 
educational advantages. 



375 



Chapter XII. 

^Esthetics must afford rules of Art ; Nature unerring, 
creative, and perfect ; Art imperfect ; Nature a mystery ; 
Beauty a trait of Nature ; Nature as studied for Poetry ; 
retrospect of preceding observations ; mysticism cen- 
sured ; purely Descriptive Poetry ; Science antagonistic 
to Poetry ; Dramatic Poetry. Nature simple in De- 
scription and etherealized through Imagination and 
Fancy ; Generalization and Particularization illustrated ; 
Nature in reference to human passions, sentiments, and 
other associations; Shakspeare an eminent instance; a 
Common-place Book suggested ; subjects for it. Con- 
cluding remarks. 

We have now, as succinctly as possible, to 
adduce from this large digest of poetical materials 
some practical method of Nature-Study. It 
belongs to ^Esthetics to lay down rules of Art, 
and the arts of Poetry and Eloquence cannot be 
better served than by even the most humble 
contribution to a system that aids, however 
imperfectly, to interpret, as it were, the apoca- 
lypse of Nature : of — 

Unerring Nature ! still divinely bright, 
One clear, unchanged, and universal light, 
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, 
At once the source, and end, and test, of Art. 

While Nature is creative and perfect, Art is, 
on the contrary, constructive and imperfect ; the 
one is independent, and consequently original ; 
the other dependent, a copyist and compounder 
of portions of Nature's products. 

From first to last Nature is one grand mystery ; 



376 NATURE-STUDY. 

and in a large and literal sense is indestructible, 
because at best we can but change and vary 
external forms and appearances. The sublimities 
of Nature consist in a multitudinous association of 
beauties. 

In treating of Beauty we feel alive to the 
limits of human language, for there is a beauty 
which is wholly of Nature ; and another which 
is wholly of Art ; and both essentially different ; 
hence we have Nature-beauty and Art-beauty 
independent the one of the other. 

Mankind at large admire the beauties of 
creation ; but nationalities of taste render it 
impossible to fix a universal standard of beauty 
in art in all its departments. 

There is a transition state in Nature leading 
to decay and ruin, but on a very small scale, 
being, as compared to the vast universe, less 
than c the dust in the balance.' This may be 
considered by many to mitigate against Nature 
being considered as wholly and unexceptionally 
Beautiful. Fortunately it makes very little 
difference whether we accept or reject the prin- 
ciple that Nature is its own standard of Beauty, 
a position due to its perfection, fitness, and 
marvellous completeness in its smallest equally 
with its most stupendous proportions ; with such 
scrutineers it is, in Thomson's words : — 

As if upon a full-proportioned dome, 
On swelling columns heaved, the pride of art, 
A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
An inch around, with blind presumption bold, 
Shall dare to tax the structure of the whole ! 

We have already sufficiently pointed out that 
there is a wide difference between the study of 



NATURE, SCIENCE, ETC. 377 

Nature pursued for the purposes of Science, as 
compared with the requirements of such a study 
in Poetry. Coleridge has well observed that — 
c Poetry is not the proper antithesis to prose, but 
to science. Poetry is opposed to science, and 
prose to metre. The proper and immediate 
object of science is the acquirement, or com- 
munication of truth : the proper and immediate 
object of poetry is the communication of imme- 
diate pleasure.'* 

We have shown how remarkably Language, 
whether real or as expressed in prose composi- 
tions, is indebted to Nature ; and we find the 
same thought, occurring in ancient and modern 
proverbs and all descriptions of poetry. Hum- 
boldt^ has very happily noticed that the 
earnest and solemn thoughts awakened in us by a 
communication with Nature intuitively arise from 
a presentiment of the order and harmony per- 
vading the whole universe, and from the contrast 
we draw between the narrow limits of our own 
experience and the image of infinity revealed on 
every side, whether we look upwards to the 
starry vault of heaven, scan the far-stretching 
plain before us, or seek to trace the dim horizon 
across the vast expanse of ocean. 

And he farther remarks : All that the senses 
can but imperfectly comprehend, all that is most 
awful in romantic scenes of Nature, may become 
a source of enjoyment to man, by opening a wide 
field to the creative powers of his imagination. 

* See The Literary Remains of S. T. Coleridge, 2 vols. 
8vo. 1836. 

f Cosmos, 1st vol. i2mo. 1849. 



3/8 N ATU RE-STUDY. 

Impressions change with the varying movements 
of the mind, and we are led by a happy illusion 
to believe that we receive (direct and intuitively) 
from the external world that with which we 
have ourselves invested it. 

Perhaps the poet will have no greater difficulty 
to contend with than the laying aside of such 
impressions, in studying Nature by any system 
(methodized or not) other than a simple and 
thorough acquaintance with Nature in its varying 
aspects, characters, and material substances ; as 
matters of fact and reality, open to examination 
through the medium of intelligence and our 
several senses. By intelligence we mean common 
sense, which in every age acquires an improved 
tone with the spread of education and general 
civilization. Chaucer in the 14th century wrote 
for a public not so refined as that addressed by 
Spenser in the 1 6th century, and the public com- 
mon sense was still more cultivated when ad- 
dressed by Shakspeare in the 17th century. In 
like manner the 1 9th century has risen in the scale 
of intelligence to such a degree as to accept from 
the poet with understanding, utterances which 
might have been neither approved nor popular 
four or five centuries back. Any study of 
Nature, or any poetry claiming to be derived 
from Nature, yet attempting to anticipate the 
common intelligence of the age, will necessarily 
be a failure. Hence the pretended mysticism of 
all writers, past or present, is unnatural, false, 
and untenable ; and as such has never obtained 
any hold on the public mind. 

Our 3rd and 4th chapters are sufficiently ex- 



epithets. 379 

planatory of the extent to which the matters they 
refer to are indebted to Nature, to excuse any 
necessity for farther remarks. So far as they 
immediately affect poetry and eloquence, they 
may be useful in leading to the production of 
appropriate and forcible epithets, on which sub- 
ject Jermyn's treatise might be advantageously 
consulted. He gives examples which seldom 
occupy more than a line, or couplet, closely 
printed ; yet under the word ' Cloud,' 1 1 pages 
are occupied with suitable quotations ; in like 
manner ' Smile' has 9 pages ; ' Moon' above 8 
pages ; ' Hill' 7 ; * Kiss' above 6 ; and c Oak' 6 
pages ; besides which are poetical epithets apply- 
ing to Beard, Eagle, Gold, Ivy, Lightning, 
Nightingale, Rill, Tiger, Violet, Xanthus, Yell, 
and Zephyr.* 

In Nature-Study the poet's true province 
strictly begins with Descriptive Poetry, proceed- 
ing thence to Human Nature, and the Moral, 
Religious, Didactic, or Social and Political, 
employing in all a greater or less degree of 
Imagination and Fancy, proportioned to the re- 
quirements of the subject, and the genius and 
taste of the poet or orator to trace for our delight, 
or instruction, or both, in happy conjunction — 

Those lineaments of beauty which delight 
The Mind Supreme. 

If we consider purely Descriptive Poetry, it 
cannot be too true to Nature in its word-painting ; 
as exact a reflex as possible of the very objects 
and scenes depicted. The effect on the hearer's 

* See Book of English Epithets, literal and figurative. By 
James Jermyn. Royal 8vo. 1849, 



380 NATURE-STUDY. 

or reader's mind should be that of an instan- 
taneous conception of the characteristics described ; 
and if referring to any familiar or known subject, 
it should bring vividly to mind not only the 
obvious, but the overlooked facts and beauties that 
had escaped less observant minds. With the 
wide world of Nature before him the poet must 
not only select, copy, and faithfully portray what 
he sees under chosen and favourable aspects, but 
he must suggest the sensations it is calculated to 
foster in other breasts than his own. One poet 
may see gloom, and misery, and portents in all 
around him, because his mental constitution is so 
jaundiced as to view everything through a dis- 
coloured and disordered medium. Lord Byron 
was incapable of taking a generous view of 
Human Nature ; and Dr. Newman sympathizes 
only with the unreal, as in his ' Dream of 
Gerontius.' Burns and Scott treat of Nature 
with hearty hilarity ; while Wordsworth regarded 
Nature as a divinity with whom he would fain 
communicate, imbuing his very poetry with a 
philosophical pantheism. Mere description of 
external Nature, will, as a general rule, form but 
an inconsiderable portion of any large work ; 
but when it can be judiciously applied, the higher 
the tone, the more graphic the outline, the 
brighter the colouring, and the more striking the 
general conception of the entire picture, the 
greater will be the charm. Such illustrative 
sketches afford relief and variety as well as add 
beauty and vigour to any composition, however 
grave or gay may be the subject. The 5th and 
6th chapters, relating to descriptive poetry, show 



DESCRIPTION. 381 

in the examples furnished, that generalisation 
prevails throughout to an extent that leaves much 
to the reader's imagination to amplify or diminish. 
A reader deficient in imagination will therefore 
often prefer a writer who thinks for him. Mr. 
Dickens thinks for his readers to the extent of 
giving the pattern of a neck-handkerchief, every 
article of apparel, and furniture, and every 
feature and action of his life-like characters. If 
after viewing some interesting scene for the first 
time, the observer were to close his eyes, and dic- 
tate his impressions, he might give a good general 
description of such a scene, but how much would 
he leave out ! Descriptive poetry, like paint- 
ings, will always have the impress of the artist's 
peculiar handling of his subjects. And not only 
so, but one poet soars among the stars, another 
traverses mountains and dreary scenes, while a 
third is all for flowers, or fields, or animal nature, 
with various degrees of excellence in each depart- 
ment. The poet can go little farther than to 
arrive at exactness of description, confining him- 
self to what the eye observes ; and any colouring 
of imagination, or expression of sentiments in 
connection with inanimate Nature, must depend 
on his own intelligence. The student will have 
sufficient occupation for his talents for a long 
time, in attaining the ability ^ to realize pictures- 
queness and truthfulness in depicting the objects 
and phenomena presented to his daily observa- 
tion, whether heavenward he views the Celestial, 
or on earth that which is Terrestrial. But in no 
instance can Science assist him more than in 
affording him a good common education, suitable 



382 NATURE-STUDY. 

to his condition in life and the age in which he 
lives, by which he will be enabled to speak cor- 
rectly and reasonably about all matters on which 
he desires to treat. He has more to do with the 
exterior than the interior of matter ; he does not 
profess to discuss natural facts with the minute 
scientific accuracy of a natural philosopher. A 
scientific poet would be as nearly as possible the 
very antipodes of what he should be. Examples, 
indeed, are not wanting of poets who stand isolated 
in our literature. But such examples mostly indi- 
cate rather what is to be avoided than what is to 
be imitated. Sylvester might be named for 
beauties as well as for bombast ; Fletcher for his 
poetical anatomy of Man ; and Darwin for his 
botanical exposition of the loves and properties 
of plants. The student's only safe plan is to 
make himself thoroughly acquainted with the 
modes of description and selections made by 
masters of the art, and then, without servilely 
copying them, to adopt somewhat of their 
system or method of depicting Nature, applying 
their process to scenes and objects that have come 
under his personal observation. Description has 
been so extensively cultivated in prose and poetry 
of late years that it does not afford much scope 
for novel or peculiar modes of treatment ; and 
perhaps, nothing §Jiort of an intuitive feeling 
for, and love of Natural scenery, can assist the 
few simple suggestions already offered for 
practice. 

Thus far we have considered description as 
affecting the outer world in its animate and in- 
animate conditions, but irrespective of the 



HUMAN NATURE. 383 

human race. In the seventh chapter numerous 
examples are given from eminent poets, arranged 
under the heads of Physical, Metaphysical, 
Ethical, Theological, Social, and Political. The 
various modes here exhibited in treating of Man, 
his intellectual faculties, moral obligations, future 
destiny, social habits, and general government, 
complete and abundant as they may appear, 
afford but a glance at the study of Human 
Nature. Dramatists and other poets when 
engaged on this subject, find greater scope for 
the exercise of imagination and fancy than in 
any department we have previously noticed ; 
and, as already remarked, it has engaged more 
attention than either the inanimate or the brute 
creation. The dramatist who would desire to 
succeed in every line, from Tragedy to Comedy, 
would have, in addition to natural ability for 
such employment, to possess a large and varied 
knowledge of his fellow creatures individually 
and collectively, historically and personally, and 
the more thorough his acquirements the greater 
would be the probability of his success. As, 
however, it would be impossible to enter on 
extraneous matters, we are compelled to limit 
our observations to the simple facts that present 
themselves for consideration to a writer thus 
inclined. His History will be limited to a 
period, and not entitle him to be an historian ; 
in Metaphysics he may indulge with the ardour 
of a true philosopher; .but beyond these studies, 
as a speciality, his general education, and his 
intercourse with society, may be considered as 
the sum of his mental requirements, so far as 



384 NATURE-STUDY. 

his study of Nature is concerned, about which 
alone we are now treating. Whatever will assist 
the poet in particular or general descriptions of 
external Nature, will be equally serviceable to 
him ; and last of all, having c a sound mind in a 
healthy body,' he will find within himself a 
pretty good standard by which to award to his 
dramatis persona? a proper sphere for the display 
of their good or evil qualities, their wisdom or 
folly ; and every possible phase of prudence or 
imprudence that marks the universal character 
of his fellow Man. 

We have thus endeavoured to impress on the 
reader's mind that the Study of Nature as 
affecting figurative language, proverbial sayings, 
descriptive poetry applying to single objects, or 
extended scenery, and lastly Human Nature 
itself in all its complicated ramifications, is a 
series of word-painted pictures, so plainly, 
simply, and yet graphically and truthfully 
drawn that they inform and instruct all minds, 
but not all minds with equal intensity. We 
thence infer that it is hopeless to refine on this 
photographing process, considered in a literary 
point of view ; and that no instruction can go 
beyond recommending the same course of 
delineation of the heavens, the earth, Man, and 
all animate creation, as that which has been 
found from the earliest to the present period of 
our history to subserve all the purposes of 
language in communicating our thoughts, 
impressions, and sentiments in reference to our- 
selves and the universe. 

Nature, treated as a dry matter of fact is, as 



HUMAN NATURE. 385 

it were, only so much either of living or dead 
materials ; but in Man there is a soul, a mind, 
intelligence, without which the grand features of 
universal creation would be to him a blank ; and 
day or night almost a matter of indifference so 
long as he was housed, clothed, and fed. Savage 
tribes of the human race offer a near approach 
to this low scale of being. But in proportion 
to his mental condition, so does Man become 
more and more refined, and more sensible to the 
grandeur, order, and beauty of surrounding 
creation. And here, let it not be overlooked, 
that it is a peculiar evidence of the poetic 
temperament to possess in a larger degree than 
ordinary, that mental faculty distinguished as 
imagination and fancy, and to which he princi- 
pally owes his pre-eminence in society. We 
sufficiently express its noble and distinguishing 
character under the somewhat objectionable term 
— inspiration, which conveys to ordinary minds 
the idea of supernatural interposition. Imagina- 
tion and fancy are to poetry like those two great 
lights, the sun and the moon, to our universal 
parent — indispensable to its very existence. We 
have seen that there may be much good, plain 
descriptive poetry without much of the interpo- 
sition of either ; and poetry, when referring to 
Nature, is rarely spoken of otherwise than for 
any excellence it may possess in description. It 
never seems to have been ever so remotely 
suspected, hitherto, that imagination and fancy 
were capable of receiving any peculiar aid from 
the study of external Nature. Whenever a 
poem of an imaginative character is indebted to 

2 c 



386 NATURE-STUDY. 

Nature, then it is that the critic treats of Nature 
as communing with the poet, and the poet as 
looking into the very arcana of Nature, and 
expounding the marvels of its most secret 
recesses. This tone is never assumed in con- 
sidering the most exquisite descriptive poem, 
there the poet is the mere painter ; but let him 
throw into his subject the entrancing excellence 
of powerful imagination and glowing fancy, and 
immediately his work is no longer of this earth 
but spiritual ! No view of this interesting sub- 
ject can be more untenable, or more likely to 
discourage progress or improvement if believed 
in, and attempted to be followed. 

To assist the imagination and fancy in opera- 
ting on the results of Nature-Study we must 
first amass and arrange as systematically as 
possible, the facts presented to our observation in 
the material world ; and this leads us to refer to 
our allusions at page 83, on the importance of 
Generalization ; to which we may add as a 
next process that of Particularization. To 
show that this investigation has no direct 
scientific bearing, we shall consider the universe 
under the four ancient elements : — 

The Earth may be considered a massy globe, constituted 
of mountains, rocks, hills, plains, prairies, deserts, valleys, 
shores, &c. ; each of which again has its distinctive 
characters. Then come its living creatures — man, beasts, 
birds, reptiles, and insects ; also trees, plants, vegetables, 
fungi, &c. 

Water may be noticed as next associated, consisting of 
the ocean, rivers, bays, and lakes ; also rivulets, streams, 
brooks, pools, &c; all supplied with salt, or fresh-water. 
And rain, dew, mist, vapour, springs, cascades, &c, with 
their living animal products of fish, &c, together with ac- 
companying peculiar classes of vegetation. 



GENERALIZATION. 387 

Air, as enveloping the whole, the firmament, with the 
sun, moon, stars, and entire planetary system, and its 
aurora borealis, rainbow, lightning, &c. Likewise con- 
sidered as the supporter of animal and vegetable life. 
And— 

Fire, as evidenced by the sun's rays, volcanoes, friction 
of wood, and combustion of wood, oil, &c. ; also phospho- 
rences of the sea, fish, and the ignis fatuus. 

Having thus obtained one form of synopsis 
capable of considerable extension and more 
precise arrangement, we may next turn to other 
particulars, and generalize on matters connected 
with the four elements. Thus : — 

The Earth's objects are either animate or 
inanimate. First, Animal and Vegetable king- 
doms ; and second the Mineral kingdom. To 
which may be super-added the Air and the 
Water. These again branch out into subdivi- 
sions, affording, in Man — life, with locomotion, 
intellect and speech ; and in animals also — life 
and locomotion, but with instinct only. Then 
fish and other creatures, living wholly or partly 
in water. And lastly, vegetable, or non-instinc- 
tive life, without locomotion, whether land or 
marine plants. 

From the external we proceed to reflect on 
the earth's internal construction ; its caverns and 
underground seas, its animated creatures and 
mineral products, its gems, its lava lakes, and 
central molten mass. 

The arrangement and classification of such 
objects and phenomena as are ever present to our 
senses throughout Nature, may be safely left to 
ordinary skill and judgment, even while recom- 
mending as desirable, the observance of attention 
to Order, Genera, and Species. Scientific ex- 

2 c 2 



388 NATURE-STUDY. 

actness however, will, as we proceed, appear to 
be not necessarily called for in Nature-Study. 

Having so far generalized on the subjects, 
Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, we may take singly 
any object or matter appertaining to them, and 
still farther generalize on all or any of such 
subjects. Thus : — 

The Earth is present to our minds as a globe, 
and so far like the sun, moon, and stars. Hence 
we arrive at a general idea of rotundity in respect 
to each, and of their rolling in circuitous paths. 
And we farther arrive at ideas of Form or 
Figure, whether in planets, man, animal, vege- 
table, or mineral creation. 

The planetary system leads us to reflect on 
Day and Night, and thence to observe a similar 
Duality throughout Nature, light and shade, 
heat and cold, male and female, love and hatred, 
good and evil, life and death. 

We cannot consider the animal, vegetable, and 
mineral kingdoms without being led to the ob- 
servance of a wonderful Variety; animals and 
plants differing in forms, colours, and con- 
stitution ; not one animal but many ; nor 
yet the same clothing, matter, or configura- 
tion in them, or in any of Nature's multiform 
products. 

As we proceed in thus generalizing, if we 
select the air, the sky, or water, and many other 
works of Nature, we are at once struck with a 
prevailing Simplicity, with attendant Beauty, 
and at the same time with remarkable Grandeur. 
Look where we will the observer of life sees 
Vitality on the land and in the waters : with 



THE IMPONDERABLE. 38Q 

Vitality of a different order in all kinds of vege- 
tation. 

The Earth, and the firmament, and entire 
planetary system make known to us Power, and 
Motion, and Solitude, and Time. 

In the study of objects of external Nature we 
deal generally with the ponderable ; but there is 
another important class — the imponderable and 
immaterial, as : — time, space, light, shadow, 
colour, heat, cold, electricity, thunder, aurora 
borealis, sound, echo, rainbow, &c. 

In Nature-Study we have also to consider 
certain states and conditions of matter, which 
frequently are the unseen, or certainly unob- 
served, characteristics in Nature, requiring a 
peculiarly constituted mental vision, aided by 
refinement of all our usual senses. It affords 
such utterances as : — 

In her hazel eyes her thoughts lay clear 
As pebbles in a brook." 

Or— 

The night in her silence, 
The stars in their calm.j 

Although the foregoing arrangement of sub- 
jects taken direct from surrounding natural 
objects is to a certain extent arbitrary, we 
must not use the same licence or freedom in the 
style of our language. We may conduct our Na- 
ture-Study without the intervention of any tech- 
nical jargon, but at the same time we must main- 
tain precise limits to our expressions, when simply 
treating the study, as at present, in a grammar on 

* Alexander Smith's Poems, 1853. 

\ Matthew Arnold's New Poems. Empedocles on Etna. 



39° NATURE-STUDY. 

the subject. We have pronounced against mix- 
ing up any ideas of ' inspiration ' with the course 
of our inquiry. We have spoken of c beauty ' as 
inevitable in all the Almighty's works from their 
very perfection, and from such decision there 
should be no dissent, to accommodate any con- 
ventionalities whatever. The reptile we should 
abhor in our private apartments, has its fitting 
place in creation ; therefore, any part of creation, 
in relation to the universal system, is a marvel 
and mystery, and as. such, beautiful beyond the 
power of art to imitate. It is not then that we 
require a reformed language in which to treat of 
Nature, but simply a right understanding of the 
limitation we put on our form of speech in ex- 
pressing our views. 

We may study Nature to enhance poetical 
effusions with figurative language, and pleasing 
scenes and objects ; or may take the inverse 
course, and commencing with language seek in 
Nature for some apt illustration. Thus the 
P oet or Rhetorician, we will suppose, wishes to 
illustrate, by finding images or figures bearing 
comparison with — evanescence, decay, ignorance, 
greatness, insignificance, distance, &c. But in 
either way, the object of study must be indivi- 
dually understood, and the better informed the 
student is, the better will be the ultimate result 
whether in poetry or eloquence. In how many 
forms and after how many modes of application 
have poets tuned the lyre to sing of evanescence, 
of life, of pleasures, of time itself, as : — a breath, 
flash, spark, shadow, cloud, dew, wave, falling 
star, sun-beam, sound, ephemera, &c. ? The 



PARTICULARIZATION. 39 1 

treatment of such subjects is pre-eminently within 
the province of all poets; it may be ours to 
suggest some undiscovered paths in their elysian 
fields ! If we were to attempt seeking for scien- 
tific information in impassioned verse we should 
arrive at such interpretations as: — that water 
retains no impressions ; that fish leave no track in 
it ; that it is unsuitable for writing or painting ; 
that snow melts in it ; that pebbles thrown in 
cause circles on its surface ; that it takes the form 
of the vase ; that it ascends in vapour, descends 
in rain, or congeals to snow, or hail, or ice. And 
so we might proceed, but instead, shall make it 
evident that we see herein how completely 
different is the poet's study of Nature from that 
pursued by the scientific naturalist. 

P articulari%ation, or analysis of any subject 
appertaining to Nature, and forming any part or 
portion of the matters belonging to a generalized 
system, must follow in respect to each species of 
such generalization. As, however, it would be 
impossible within any reasonable limits to enlarge 
on each topic of such an investigation, we shall 
give only a few extended examples, as aids to the 
reader's judgment : — 

Variety surrounds us in prolific profusion ; the sun unlike 
the moon or the stars ; animal life differing from vegetable 
life, and vitality in the air from that in the water. The skin 
of the human differing from that of the brute creation, and 
their covering again from that of birds, insects, reptiles, 
and fishes, and still greater in the vegetable world. Again, 
the hairy coats of animals varying in texture and colour, 
have no analogy to the varied plumage of birds, or the 
scales of fishes or reptiles. There is a singular prodigality 
in contexture, quality, and colour in each, and especially in 
leaves, blossoms, and flowers of trees, shrubs, and plants ; 
and likewise of fruits and seeds. 



39 2 NATURE-STUDY. 

Even mankind, in a savage or civilized state, differs in 
various countries, in stature, figure, physiognomy, com- 
plexion, habits, feelings, and sentiments. The earth's 
surface is varied with rocks, mountains, hills, dales, plains, 
prairies, steppes, deserts, and wild tracts of country, varie- 
gated with vegetation ; and watered by many mingling 
sources, in endless variety of form and extent. 

Man himself seeks to extend the bounds of this feature 
in Nature, through continual efforts at variety in artistic 
production, whether in his songs, music, games, hunting, 
warfare, buildings, clothing, laws, or whatever he under- 
takes. ... . 

Suppose all Nature were reduc'd 
To singleness in all its parts; 
A single tree, and single plant ; 
A single animal and bird ; 
One insect of the beetle tribe ; 
In water all the fish alike ; 
The scene around, a gray imprint ; 
How cheerless such a world would seem ! 
Remarks. Man can only employ natural objects, or facts 
relating to them that are within his own sphere of know- 
ledge. An angel must be a winged human creature, and he 
cannot conceive of any other form as more beautiful. 
Although we consider transparency beautiful, we should 
dread the sight of a transparent human form, even without 
the wings. So long as our supernatural objects are suffi- 
ciently human, we imagine they must of necessity be 
beautiful and loveable. A griffin or a dragon, terrible as it is 
meant to be, such monsters are no more than clumsy com- 
pounds of existing features in natural objects, with no 
variety in them beyond what they owe to uncouth combi- 
nations of parts ; and distortions in their production. Now 
in Nature there exists no creature living on the earth like a 
fish ; or in the water any creature like man. There is no 
bird in Nature like any flying insect ; or any quadruped that 
is like a tree or flower. Human ingenuity cannot compete 
in originality with Nature's amazing originality in its mar- 
vellous Variety of products, whether they be animate or in- 
animate. . 

To change from this topic we will offer a few- 
observations on Duality in Nature. When for 
instance we particularize about ' light,' we have 
next to take into consideration its counterpart 
' shade ;' in the same way c heat' would require 



DUALITY. 393 

one mode of investigation, and c cold' another ; 
so likewise would any physical or metaphysical 
investigation. We shall find, for example, that : — 

Light differs considerably according as it proceeds from 
the sun, which is most diffusive, or the borrowed light of 
the moon, or artificial light. But star-light, phosphores- 
cence, the glow-worm, and red-hot substances, all glow too 
faint and glimmering to be light-giving bodies. 

A strong light has a blinding effect, unless above or 
behind us. Artificial light intensifies surrounding dark- 
ness. All light is permanent in the sun, moon, and 
planets ; all else evanescent, as lightning, conflagrations, a 
blaze, a flame, a spark, an ignis fatuus. 

Light appears silvery, golden, red, or of other colours. 
Passing through leaves it appears green, through rain-drops 
or bubbles prismatic, as in the rainbow, whether in the 
firmament, or the mere spray of a cataract. 

The sun's light casts very slight shadows, the full moon 
very dense shade. The stronger any artificial light, the 
darker and more defined do the shadows appear. All light 
projects the shadow beyond the object, thus we may see the 
shade of a cloud before observing its existence, and so — 

Coming events cast their shadows before. 

And such shadows will always be black conical beams ; 
thus in Cary's translation of Dante's Paradise, c. xxx. we 
meet with — 

Noon's fervid hour, perchance six thousand miles 
From hence is distant ; and the shadowy cone 
Almost to level on our earth declines ; 
When — 

In like manner Milton, in Paradise Lost^ 
B. iv.— 

Now had night measur'd her shadowy cone 
Halfway up hill this vast sublunar vault. 

Light may be seen without enlightening, as in the stars, 
remote fire, phosphorescence, &c. Light may eclipse light, 
as the sun the stars. Light passes through crystal, air, 
water and transparent matters. But the profound depths 
of the ocean are possibly a perpetual night. The slightest 
opaque body interrupts the passage of light. 

Where there is light there is attendant shade ; one re- 
presents day, the other night. The sun can only enlighten 
half the globe ; the moon borrows its light from the sun ; 



394 NATURE-STUDY. 

the earth is luminous to other planets, thus opaque sub- 
stances may reflect light and appear phosphorescent, and 
man, together with all created matter, may appear to other 
planets as being all equally bright and glowing. 

Light travels, occupies time, and may yet be in its course 
to reach planets still unblest with light. We could not by 
any effort see the inhabitants of such spheres, much less the 
dark worlds they occupy ; but they, although in darkness, 
could plainly see our system, and others, being luminous : 
thus we cannot see those who are in the deep recesses of a 
cavern, who may yet be able to perceive distinctly ali at its 
entrance in the broad daylight. 

Light has always attendant shade. Shadow is trans- 
parent, we see through abeam of dense shade ; when falling 
on grass, or trees, or whatever is green, it seems to render the 
colour a darker green ; and so in like manner of any other 
colour. But white becomes gray ; and black remain un- 
affected — we cannot make black, blacker. No creature is 
so small as to cast no shadow on the globe. 

Duality presents itself under different circum- 
stances. The solar system being perpetual light 
cannot be imagined to be ever in shade or sub- 
ject to the remotest appearance of night. Death 
presumes previous life in material matter, animal 
or vegetable ; except mineral and certain element- 
ary bodies which we only know as inert and 
formless, as a general rule, because some minerals 
and salts are crystalline, &c. Duality may or 
may not be negation, it may be mere difference, 
as male and female. There is no duality, how- 
ever, in respect to c time.' 

Time comes stealing on by night and day. The 
true elements constituting material and gaseous 
matter are likewise without duality; and the 
astral system is equally independent of any such 
condition, so far as we have any power of 
knowing. It may now form an interesting 
variety in our examples to consider — 

Mysteries in which Nature abounds, notwithstanding that 



MYSTERIES. 395 

Nature's laboratory lies wide open to our severest scrutiny, 
and is lavish in exposing its treasures for our search and use. 
When we speak of any phenomenon in Nature as being a 
mystery we do but in other words acknowledge our own 
ignorance and insufficiency to account for the seed becom- 
ing a tree, the tree putting forth buds, leaves, and blossoms, 
and the blossoms becoming fruit suitable for oil, or wine, or 
food, or supplying seed from whence may spring other trees. 
We measure and count the stars ; we classify, describe, and 
anatomize animals and plants ; and reduce ponderable and 
aeriform matter to elementary forms, from which we can by 
combination, aided by Nature's own unerring laws, afford a 
synthetical proof of some previous analysis. J 

But man's ability, even here, does not go beyond that of 
the husbandman, who, having sown the seed, must leave 
the result of the harvest for Nature to mature. 

Astronomy relates to one vast system of mysteries, and 
includes our own surprising earth, which to penetrate 
would show its diameter to be nearly 8000 miles, but which 
man has not penetrated above 3000 feet. Our satellite the 
moon, another mystery, receiving and giving light, with 
unchanging face. The surrounding vault of heaven, our 
very atmosphere, alike in all climates, and at all elevations, 
are marvels no less than all the sources of fresh, mineral, 
and salt waters. Equally or more surprising are the almost 
supernatural influences of electricity, as exhibited in the 
atmosphere, loadstone, fish, and galvanism. 

But not only the universe at large and all animate and 
inanimate creation constituting our planet are a mystery to 
the human mind, Man to himself is his own greatest 
mystery. He learns something through the medium of 
anatomy, metaphysics, ethics, and theology, and branches 
out into many intellectual and physical pursuits, but he is 
still ever only the more disposed to search for the Super- 
natural ; his only choice is between that, and Nature itself. 
He may often satisfy his individual mind with his combi- 
nations of the two different pursuits ; but, should such 
system of purely human invention outlive one age, its 
fallacies will become apparent in some early succeeding 
age. It is not, at present, given to man to be prophetic, 
whatever may be his destiny in future ages. 

Such subjects of investigation as, the constitu- 
tion of our atmosphere, lightning, magnetism, 
common electricity, the nature of minerals, the 
composition of the diamond, the chemistry of 



39^ NATURE-STUDY. 

agriculture, anatomy, medicine, the circulation of 
the blood, with numerous others, were for a long 
period matters of superstition, doubt, and vulgar 
mystery. Superstitious opinions have fled, and 
mankind is open to accept a more refined order 
of mysteries, and all the more and better to rever- 
ence a divine origin, as their only source. In- 
vestigation into Nature, however minutely, ac- 
curately, and successfully pursued, instead of 
removing a single mystery leads only to the 
discovery of mystery within mystery. Nature 
is inscrutable, and so diversified and subtle that 
we may with increase of knowledge enlarge but 
can never hope to diminish the scale of its mys- 
teries. The elements, or letters of its language 
are threefold more than any human language, 
and are capable of untold combinations passing 
through incredibly delicate yet sensibly distinc- 
tive characteristics. 

The greatest and most interesting mystery is, 
that of life — animal life and vegetable life, toge- 
ther with the differences of their conditions. 
Indeed not a single subject can be tabulated for 
sketching its peculiar features, to which could 
not be appended a long list of its most prominent 
suggestions of Mystery. But how different is 
Mystery as found in Nature, compared with that 
false Mystery due to the creative ingenuity of 
man's intelligence, in his idols, and monsters, 
and fables. To be Mysterious as Nature is 
Mysterious, would indeed be a prime merit in 
Poetry and every Art ! 

Our inquiry into Mysteries in Nature seems 
rather to point to a warning of danger, than to 



SINGLE OBJECTS. 



397 



anything within man's feeble power of imitating ; 
and yet it is of importance to the poet to learn all 
he can possibly acquire, whether as something 
occasionally to avoid, and at other times reve- 
rently to follow as a guide, if not to imitate. 
Perhaps the most useful synopsis of natural facts 
might be tabulated from subjects of a less com- 
plex character, such as have a comparatively 
limited range, as Vegetation, or some selected 
portion of such a topic. We will choose — 

The Violet. In his Book of English Epithets^ 
1 849, Jermyn has noticed among others the fol- 
lowing epithets applied to this favourite flower 
by different poets :— 



Azure 


Fragrant 


Sad 


Bashful 


Glowing 


Sapphire 


Black 


Hedge-row 


Shadowy 


Blue 


Humble 


Shy 


Blue-eyed 


Impurpled 


Snow-clad 


mantled 


Leaf- veiled 


Soft 


veined 


Lovesick 


Solemn 


Blushing 


Lowly 


Speckled 


Breeze-scenting 


Lurking 


Thicket-loving 


Creeping 


Meek 


Timid 


Dainty 


Modest 


Tufted 


Dark-eyed 


Moist 


Various 


Deep-dyed 


Moss-couched 


Velvet 


Dejected 


Much-loved . 


Vernal 


Drooping 


Nodding 


Virgin 


Dusky 


Odorous 


Unsunned 


Early 


Pale 


Way-side 


Fair 


Pensive 


White 


Folded 


Purple 


Woodland 


Fountain 


Sable 





These and far more might be selected to dis- 
tinguish this peculiarly-favoured flower — 

Violets dim, sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. 

Or, as Bowring sings — 



39$ NATURE-STUDY. 

Sweet flower ! Spring's earliest loveliest gem ! 

well may Nature's Poet love thee ! 

There is, however, a wild violet, the Dog's 
violet, destitute of smell — 

Thus Virtue's garb Hypocrisy may wear. 

When we generalize we speak of flowers, when 
we particularize we treat of the rose, violet, 
lily, primrose, jasmine, &c. When 'Flowers' 
are the subject, we note many facts common to 
the violet or any other flower. We might par- 
ticularly remark that it was common to all to be 
short-lived, varied in colour, form, and size, with 
or without odour, cultivated or wild, blooming 
in our own or a tropical climate ; some the most 
common yet most pleasing ; distinctions between 
flowers and blossoms, the latter producing fruits ; 
and so forth. The vegetable kingdom would 
open out a still larger field, and we should observe 
generally particular kinds of vegetation, as : 
trees, shrubs, creepers, plants, vegetables, roots, 
&c. Then would follow particular kinds of 
trees, of shrubs, &c, with an enumeration of 
their seasons, characters, appearances, and other 
distinguishing circumstances. 

The application of this simple preliminary 
process appears to be so obvious when once 
adverted to and succinctly pointed out as to 
require no more precise rules for its adoption 
than have already been offered. But one re- 
commendation we must give, and that is, for 
every student of Nature to work out such pro- 
cesses as these for himself, and not to rest 
satisfied with the ready-written lessons of 



VARIED STUDY. 399 

others ; for the very effort is in itself an absolute 
advantage, which no force of memory acted on 
by reading alone can adequately supply. Let 
him produce his own common-place book of 
observations, the fruit of various reading and 
observation, and he will soon accustom his mind 
to see farther into Nature than by larger draughts 
obtained at second-hand sources. 

So far this process of Nature-Study may 
assist in suggesting judicious and forcible epithets, 
and bold, beautiful, and graphic descriptions of 
natural objects and scenery. But we must in- 
vert this order when applying our efforts in 
Nature-Study to assist our Imagination and 
Fancy. Then we no longer Generalize in re- 
spect to objects in Nature, but adopt the tech- 
nology of Metaphysics, Ethics, Social life, and 
other matters, and from them proceed to seek in 
Nature for suitable illustrations to enforce our 
discourse, whatever that may be, whether in 
oratory, or in poetry, or general literature. On 
these topics abundant selections from eminent 
authorities can be referred to in the eighth chapter, 
of Meditative, and other pieces; and the ninth 
chapter, especially devoted to Imagination and 
Fancy. If we select c Deity' — then the point is 
to seek out the sublimities of Nature and com- 
press them in the language of Apostrophe. 
Much in the same way would it be were it the 
object of the poet to treat of ' the Soul.' If 
' man, woman, parents, family, child, life, death,' 
&c, were the leading topics, then for each would 
be found some corresponding feature in Nature. 
Whatever interests man in his social condition 



4-00 NATURE-STUDY. 

would in the same way find expression in some 
appropriate imagery suggested by apparently 
suitable natural objects or phenomena. 

Many examples are afforded by proverbs, 
and by the language of the Scriptures of 
associations between our mental faculties and the 
material world, thus, in Job : — 

i. The wicked — are as stubble, (page 227, 1.) 

2. The wicked man [as the] unripe grape. (231, 3.) 

In the Psalms : — 

1. The wicked [are] — like chaff. (227, 2.) 

2. The godly man — like a tree planted by the rivers of 

waters. ( 2 3°> 9 ) 

3. The righteous shall flourish like the palm. (231, 2.) 

Shakspeare's dramas abound in similar associa- 
tions, for example : — 

1. As small a drop of pity as a wren's eye. (p. 214, 1.) 

2. Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 

(2?2, 4.) 

3. beauty 

Whose action is no stronger than a. flower. (226. 4. } 
4. mercy 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. 
(229, 8.) 

5. Glory like a circle in the water. (229,, 9.) 

6. my hopes lie drowned, 

many fathoms deep. (229, 1.) 

7. What's in a name ? That which we call a rost , 

By any other name, would smell as sweet. (232, 9.) 

8. Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours. (240, 7.) 

9. chaste as the icicle. (241, 3.) 

Dante also, as rendered in Cary's translation, 
has : — 

1. Life the tea/ that bows its lithe top. (p. 216, 1.) 

2. Whom love did melt, as sun the mist. (226, 6.) 

Ben Jonson says, allusive to — 

1. Courtship — 

Follow a shadow, it still flies you ; 
Seem to fly, it will pursue. 



ASSOCIATIONS. 40I 

Milton reminds us that : — 

1. Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. (p. 222, 5.) 

Armstrong in The Dispensary^ observes : — 

1. What does not fade ? 

This huge rotundity where tread grows old ; 
And all those worlds that roll around the sun, 
The sun himself, shall die. (249, 6.) 

Sir Walter Scott remarks : — 

1. Thoughts- 



Glance quick as lightning through the heart 
(237, 3-) 

And Moore :— 

i. Thoughts come, as pure as light. (237, 5.) 

Similar examples will be found interspersed 
throughout the selections already supplied, in 
which the foregoing can be referred to by the 
pages and numbers annexed to each. The well- 
read poet will not have failed to remark that, a 
large stock of such figurative language has ac- 
cumulated without much variety being produced, 
beyond differences in application, so that some 
figure happening to become a favourite has often 
had the benefit of modifications in its employ- 
ment beyond what has occurred with others of 
less note. This appears to the author to be so 
exactly and truly the case that he imagines were 
it possible to find such a case as that of 
a reader perusing a large collection of poetical 
works, to the exclusion of those of Shakspeare, 
he would on the first reading of the immortal 
dramatist be struck with a difference in this 
respect, for which he might not be able to 
account, except so far as to describe it as some- 
thing singularly original in its effect; for he 

2 D 



402 NATURE-STUDY. 

wrote as never poet wrote before, so independent 
and yet so forcible in expressing all manner of 
feelings and sentiments. Now we believe that 
this peculiarity is in a great measure due to that 
poet's natural mental ability in first generalizing, 
and thence particularizing or analyzing each sub- 
ject, specially and separately. He would thus 
have before him a train of thought leading to 
results, many of which would be novel. At all 
events, the construction of his language renders 
it probable that his mode of procedure was some- 
what analogous to that suggested. Let the 
student of Nature, then, provided with a 
Common-place book, as recommended, record, 
not as Dr. Southey did, (see page 72), heteroge- 
neous remarks on the sky, vegetation, animals, 
and birds, just as circumstances might draw at- 
tention to them ; but endeavour, under different 
headings, to produce an exhaustive syllabus, or 
analysis of each proposed subject. For the 
present purpose he might begin by devoting one 
or more pages to : — Speed, Evanescense, Decay, 
Strength, Lasting, Perfection, Life, Death, 
Height, Depth, Figure, Weight, Growth (man, 
animal and vegetable), or the Senses, &c. Thus — 

Speed, as observed in the heavenly system, is quite 
beyond human comprehension ; on earth it is notable in 
great rivers and cataracts ; in the progress of conflagra- 
tions, in light, lightning, and electricity. In the progress 
of wild animals, birds, fish, &c. But not so in the growth 
of any living thing. Time moves slow but sure, from 
infancy to manhood, from year to year, century to century. 

Evanescence is suggested by the decline of day, the 
perishable nature of beauty, the shortness of life, the fleet- 
ing cloud, the morning dew, the early mist, the summer 
shower, the April sun, flash of light, insect life, the fading 
of flowers, &c. 



DECAY, &C 403 

Decay, as evinced in man, brutes, and vegetable creation ; 
life resists decay, but it follows on the heels of death. It is 
a transitionary state, leading to other products and growths. 
It crumbles down rocks, attacks the feeble and the strong, 
and yet has its bounds. 

Strength of material, of sense, of mind, or with the 
meaning of power to resist. Man may have the strength 
of a giant, in animals there is that of the elephant, in trees 
the oak, in metals iron, among stones flint. There is the 
strength of a number of men, or animals, even of rushes 
as a bundle of rushes. The power to hold together is 
exemplified by the law of gravity, cohesive affinity. Weak- 
ness may display strength to overcome obstacles, as the 
placid air roused to a hurricane ; the ocean, in a storm ; or 
a spark of fire blown to a considerable flame. The 
strongest wood is made up of silken fibres ; the hardest 
marble of pearly and almost atomic grains. 

Lasting, or undecaying, is seen in the sun, and all 
heavenly bodies, the air we breathe, the waters in and 
around the earth, and the earth itself. Transition or 
change there will be, but the aggregate of matter remains 
the same. Time is everlasting, so are day and night ; so 
are light, heat, and electricity, as they only alter in degree 
or change their abode. The fire that destroys leaves 
imperishable ashes. Not an atom of matter is perishable, 
it only alters its atomic constitution. 

Perfection as exemplified throughout the mighty and the 
minutest works of the Creator. Heavenly or mundane 
bodies all alike so complete and perfect that we are cogni- 
zant of no newly created or modified matter; no new matter 
or being brought into existence, although many animals and 
vegetables have evidently died out and been dispensed 
with. A microscopic eye realizes the wonders of a truly 
invisible world, the least as perfect in organization as the 
most powerful and vigorous within daily observation. 

These examples, imperfect as they are, will 
suffice to show distinctly what is meant by our 
proposal to seek in Nature for illustrations of any 
subjects akin to those here outlined. In draw- 
ing up such summary observations, the cir- 
cumstance of our making some exceptional 
observations is of less importance than to have 
collected the greatest possible connected variety, 

2 d 2 



404 NATURE-STUDY. 

briefly expressed. And if revised from time to time, 
that very exercise will prove of the utmost benefit 
to the careful student. Such sketches are not to 
be taken as confessions of faith, but as momen- 
tary impressions, set down for future government 
and hints. If while composing these analy- 
tical programmes on any subjects, some special 
application should suggest itself, it should be at 
once interlined or transferred as a marginal note ; 
for such will certainly happen in the process of 
study we have indicated, a process which reading 
and experience will contribute to render of 
still greater importance. 

As one result of a habit of this nature, ideas 
will occur apparently unsought for, or as some 
would prefer to say, from inspiration, but, as we 
believe, from the habitual practice of looking 
from poetry up to Nature as its undoubted 
fountain ; and new ideas, when they arise, 
should be at once recorded under appropriate 
headings in the student's Common-place book. 

Whether we examine Nature, commencing 
with Material Objects, or whether we examine 
it to find illustrations for Metaphysical, Physical, 
Moral, or Religious truths, and look from them 
to find in Nature apt associations with each, the 
result attained will be the same ; that is, such an 
acquaintance with Nature as has never hitherto 
been obtained when the same object has been 
followed in a desultory way, with only occa- 
sional and remote favourable results. Whatever 
the world may appear to beings differently 
organized to ourselves, of this we feel certain, 
that in our present state of existence we can 



CONCLUSION. 405 

only consistently view matter as material, and 
not as a spiritual essence. We are of the world, 
earthy, and to the earth man is destined to return ; 
and the soul, spirit, or mind of man can no more 
commune with dead matter than with the dead 
bones of his fellow man. It is given to him, 
however, according to his genius and intellectual 
capacity, so to associate himself with the lifeless 
and living products of Nature, as to acquire an 
intense, an enthusiastic admiration of Nature in 
every possible phase of its character. But such 
association is akin, although of a higher and 
more estimable standard, to that of the anti- 
quarian searching the ruins of Greece or Rome ; 
or the Bibliomaniac among his black-letter 
tomes ; or the Naturalist, or Geologist, or the 
Chemist, absorbed in the study of an insect, a 
petrification, or the composition of some natural 
substance. That mind may be said to act thus in 
giving as it were absolute spiritual existence to ex- 
ternal Nature, is not to be perverted into a reality, 
sought for as a reality, and appealed to as a very 
deity. Whatever may be the mystery of Nature 
in this respect, it is not (at present at least) given 
to human intellect to penetrate ; and meanwhile 
we must be content to follow our Nature- Study 
humbly, sincerely, faithfully, and energetically ; 
and then most assuredly our labour will not be 
in vain. 



INDEX, 



Aitkin, Dr. Essay on the Application of Natural History 
to Poetry, 15, 16, 17 ; on Thomson's Seasons, 16. 

Alison, Sir Archibald. On the changes of nature, 212. 

Ampiere. On Homer, 153. 

Analysis of proverbs, 110-11. 

Analysis, or particularization of natural objects, 386. 

Austen's spiritual use of an orchard, 368. 

Arnold, Professor. Essays on Criticism. The interpretory 
power of poetry, 26, 27 ; remarks on his argument, 28, 
29, and 38. 

Bain, Professor. Artistic and scientific truth, 259 ; com- 
parisons employed in literary art for ornament and effect, 
&c, 42-44. 

Beattie. Praise of Nature, 46. 

Blackmore, Sir Richard. The Creation, 154-5. 

Bowles, Rev. W. L. The requirements of the true poet, 61. 

Bowles, Byron, and others, controversy between, on the 
former's critique on Pope, 11, 12. 

Bowring's, Sir John. Batavian Anthology, 282, 332. 

Cheskian Anthology (Bohemia), 303. 

Magyar Poems, 191, 195, 203, 296, 316, 354. 

Poetical Literature of Bohemia, 214. 

Poetry, &c, of Spain, 123, 214, 227, 237, 274, 

2 9 6 > 2 97> 3 2 3> 3 26 - 

Russian Poets, 117, 129, 191, 224, 225, 264, 



3 28 > 35 6 - 

Boyle, Hon. R. Essay on Nature, 56. 

Bright, John. The talk needful in settling great ques- 
tions, 213. 

Brown, Dr. On imagination, 258. 

Bryant. On the love of Nature, 33. 

Burns. On Nature, 47 ; Feeling for Nature, 157-8. 

Byron. On Nature, 47. 

Campbell. Nature the poet's goddess, 53, 54. 
Carlyle. His use of figurative language, 89. 
Charlemagne, Armand. Platitudes, examples of, 371-2. 



408 INDEX. 

Coleridge. Biographia Literaria on the Imagery of the 
Italian poets. Genius essential to the most perfect 
interpretation of Nature, 41-2; imitation of Nature, 61; 
on the summit of Etna, 212; poetry opposed to science, 
377-8. 

Darwin's (Dr. C.) Botanic Garden, 155-6-7. 

De Quincey. Criticism on Wordsworth, 62-64. 

Decay, 402. 



As applied to single objects and features, 1 12-152. 
Examples from — 

Brooke, Henry, Universal Beauty, 113; Drayton, 
113 ; Pope, 114. 
Celestial Objects. — 
Autumn. — 

Keats, Arnold, Scott, 125; Scott, 126. 
Clouds. — 

Shakspeare, Shelley, Wordsworth, 127. 
Evening. — 

Cary's Dante, 1 18-19. 
Morning. — 

Wordsworth, Gray, Milton, Cary's Dante, 118. 
Night.— 

Cary's Dante, Creech's Lucretius, Lord Derby's 
Homer, 119; Countess of Winchelsea, 119-20. 
Young, Shelley, Scott, 121. 
Rainbow. — 

Shelley, Campbell, 128. 
Sound. — 

Shelley, Scott, 127. 
Summer. — 

Bell's Early Ballads, Bowring's Poetry of Spain, 
123 ; Keats, Wordsworth, Thomson, Keble, 
124. 
Sun. — 

Lord Derby's Homer, 116; Creech's Lucretius, 
116-17; Cary's Dante, Sylvester's Du Bartas, 
Bowring's Russian Poets, 117 ; Wordsworth, 
117-18. 
Spring. — 

Creech's Lucretius, Earl of Surrey, Shakspeare, 
Anna Seward, 122 ; Moore, Arnold, 123. 
Thunder. — 

Shelley, Scott, 128. 
Winter. — 

Shakspeare, Philips, Burns, 126. 



INDEX. 409 

Terrestrial. — 
Animalcules. — 

Thomson, 145. 
Animal Creation. — 

Cowper, 137-8; Scott, 138; Montgomery, 138-9. 
Bittern. — 

Keats, 142. 
Black-cock. — 

Scott, 142. 
Bowers. — 

Dryden, 135; Warton, 135-6; Milton, Scott, 136. 
Cuckoo. — 

Logan, Wordsworth, 141. 
Corn Crake. — 

Leyden, 141. 
Fish. — 

Pope, 142 ; Smollet, 142-3. 
Forest Fire. — 

Leyden, 137. 
Frogs. — 

Cary's Dante, Dyer, 143. 
Garden. — 

Allan Ramsay, 136; Wordsworth, 136-7; Tennyson, 

137- 

Husbandry. — 

Schiller (Lambert), 137. 
Insects. — 

Crabbe, 143. 
Island. — 

Shakspeare, 129-30. 
Linnet. — 

Wordsworth, 141-2. 
Mountains. — 

Cary's Dante, Milton, 131; Thomson, 131-2; 
Burns, Coleridge, Shelley, 132 ; Scott, 132-3. 
Nautilus. — 

Coleridge, 143. 
Petrel.— 

Barry Cornwall, 140. 
Pigeons. — 

Cary's Dante, 139. 
Reptiles and Insects. — 

Brooke's Universal Beauty, 144. 
Rivers. — 

Addison, 133; Pope, Cowper, Burns, 134; Scott, 
134-5 '■> Longfellow, 136, 



41 INDEX. 

Rocks and Caves. — 

Scott, 133. 
Scenery. — 

Dyer, 128-9 ; Bowring's Russian Poets, Shelley, 
Scott, 129. 
Sea Coast. — 

Crabbe, Shakspeare, Arnold, 130. 
Skylark. — 

Shakspeare, Gray, 139; Shelley, 139-40; Words- 
worth, Keats, 140, 
Starlings. — 

Cary's Dante, 139. 
Swan. — 

Wordsworth, 142.* 
Thrush. — 

Burns, 140. 
Wastes. — 

Shakspeare, Wordsworth, 131. 

Vegetable Creation. — 
Ash.— 

Wordsworth, 146. 
Beech. — 

Campbell, 146. 
Celandine. — 

Wordsworth, 149. 
Daisy. — 

Wordsworth, 149-50 : Arnold, 150. 
Flowers. — 

Shelley, 148-9 ; Campbell, Wordsworth, 149. 
Gorse. — 

Cowper, 147. 
Ivy. — 

Dyer, 147. 
Rose. — 

Wordsworth, 147 ; Arnold, 147-8 ; Shakspeare, 
148. 
Sweet Briar. — 

Moir, 146-7. 
Violet. — 

Wordsworth, 149. 
Wood, &*c. — 

Cary's Dante, Scott, Dyer, 145 ; Longfellow, 145-6 ; 
From the German, 146. 

* Erroneously attributed to Shelley in the text, 



INDEX. 411 

DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 
Compound Objects, 153-174. 
A calm Scene. — 

Falconer, 164-5. 
A Woody Dell.— 
Shelley, 163-4. 
Autumn. — 

Thomson, 169-70. 
Etna. — 

Arnold, 162-3. 
Evening. — 

Gray, 171-2. Miss Aitken, 172 ; Dulcken, 172-3 ; 
Scott, 165-6. 
Hazy Scene. — 

Wordsworth, 163. 
Study. — 

Goldsmith, 161-2. 
Lake Scene. — 
Scott, 166. 
Mountain Scenery. — 

Milton, 158-9. Ruskin, 159-61. 
Moorland. — 

Tennyson, 167. 
Naples. — 

Shelley, 161. 
Rustic Scene. — 

Tennyson, 166-7. 
Spring Morning. — - 

Dulcken, 168. 
Sterile Scene. — 

Tennyson, 167. 
Summer. — 

Thomson, 169. 
Winter. — 
Thomson, 170-1 ; Dryden, 171. 
Du Bartas. Nature compared to a Book, 32. 
Duality, 394. 

Dickens, his use of Figurative Language, 89, 90. 
Early English Poetry, its imperfect treatment o 

Scenery, 5. 
Edinburgh Review, The. Poetical Reality or Truth to 

Nature, 60. 
Emerson on the Study of Nature, 33. Greatness and 

Grandeur of Nature, 38. 
Epic Poets, and the world of Nature, 5. 
Epithets, 379. 
Esthetics must offend rules of Art, 375-405. 



412 INDEX. 

Evanescence, 402. 

Fables, 350-1. 

Fancy and Imaginative, 260-1. 

Figurative Language, 87, 97. Examples from Macaulay. 

88 ; Carlyle, 89 ; Dickens, 89, 90 ; Gladstone, 91, 92. 
Fletcher, Phineas. The Purple Islands, &c, 210. 
Generalization, 387-8. 

Gladstone, his use of Figurative Language, 91. 
Goethe, on the separation of Subject from Object, 14 ; on 

man in his relation to Nature, 6. 
Herder, on Hebrew Poetry, 211. 
Horace's Art of Poetry, 3. 

HUMAN NATURE, THE POETRY OF, 175-210. 

Ethical. — 
Age.— 

Bowring's Russian Poets, 191-2. 
Ambition. — 

Byron, Longfellow, 190-1 ; Ben Jonson, 191. 
Beauty. — 

Shakspeare, 190. 
Coward. — 

Shakspeare, Coleridge, 190. 
Death.— 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, Shelley, 192. 
Flattery. — 

Shakspeare, 189. 
Generous Nature. — 

Spenser, 1S7. 
Good or Evil Fortune. — 

Shakspeare, 190. 
Idleness. — 

Young, Thomson, 189. 
Ingratitude. — 

Shakspeare, 188. 
Life. — 

Shakspeare, 187 ; Bowring's Magyar Poems, 191. 
Nature's Lessons. — 

Shakspeare, 188-9. 
Pride. — 

Chapman, 188. 
Ruin. — 

Shakspeare, Young, 190. 
Slander. — 

Shakspeare, 189. 
Virtues. — 

Shakspeare, 18S. 



INDEX. 413 

Metaphysical. — 
Frail Beauty. — 

Earl of Surrey, 185-6, 
Matchless Beauty. — 

Scott, 186. 
Genius. — 

Akenside, 183. 
Liberty. — 

Shakspeare, 187. 
Love. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 184-5 > Harrington, Chap- 
man, Shakspeare, 185. 
Man and Nature. — 

Byron, 183-4. 
Melancholy. — 

Beaumont and Fletcher, 186. 
Mind, &c. 

Kennedy's Poets of Spain, Young, 182 ; Brooke, 183. 
Passions. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 184. 
Time. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 187. 
Physical. — 
Baby.— 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 177. 
Brows. — 

Shakspeare, 178. 
Death. — 

Shelley, 181-2 ; Shakspeare, 182. 
Eyes. — 

Shakspeare, 178. 
Human Frame. — 

Garth, 180-1. 
Life. — 

Campbell, 181. 
Man. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 176-7 ; Shakspeare, 177. 
Old Age, &>c. — 

Shakspeare, Scott, 180. 
Our Lives. — 

Shakspeare, 179 ; Keats, Scott, 180. 

Sleep.— 

Sir Philip Sidney, Shakspeare, Scott, 178 ; Young, 
Wordsworth, 179. 
Smiles. — 

Shakspeare, Shelley, 178. 



4*4 INDEX. 

Woman. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, 177. 
Political. — 
A Mob.— 

Shakspeare, 209. 
Checks. — 

Shakspeare, 209. 
Civil War. — 

Shakspeare, 206-7-8. 
Fitz -James. — 

Scott, 208. 
King. — 

Shakspeare, 206. 
King James. — 

Scott, 208-9. 
Murder. — 

Shakspeare, 206. 
War.— 

Byron, 205-6. 
Theological. — 
Blood.— 

Shakspeare, 193. 
Devotion. — 

Young, 193. 
Divine Love. — 

Solomon's Song, 192-3. 
Futurity. — 

Young, 193. 
Soul. — 

Rousseau, 193. 
Sun. — 

Young, 193. 
Vengeance. — 

Shakspeare, 193. 
Social. — 
Age.— 

Shakspeare, 202. 
Character. — 

Shakspeare, Tennyson, 194. 
Content. — 

Shakspeare, 203. 
Cunning. — 

Shakspeare, 204. 
Delight. — 

Bowring's Maygar Poems, 203. 
Dying. — 

Eastman, 205. 



INDEX. 415 

Friendship. — 

Shakspeare, 196. 
Grief. — 

Shakspeare, 203. 
Hand. — 

Shakspeare, 196. 
Indecision. — 

Shakspeare, 196. 
Love. — 

Marlowe, 198; Shakspeare, 198-9, 200; Anon., 201. 
Loveliness. — 

Leyden, 196-7 ; Anonymous, Herrick, Trench, 197 ; 
Byron, 197-8. 
Mind. — 

Shakspeare, 202. 
Misfortune. — 

Shakspeare, 201. 
Murder. — 

Shakspeare, 204. 
Music. — 

Shakspeare, 204. 
Rage. — 

Shakspeare, 204. 
Rich Parents. — 

Shakspeare, 193-4. 
Riot.— 

Shakspeare, 202. 
Stature. — 

Pope, 203-4. 
Tears. — 

Shakspeare, 202. 
The Past. — 

Byron, 204. 
Woman. — 

Scott, Moore, Shakspeare, 201. 
Youth. — 

Shakspeare, Kennedy's Poets of Spain, 194 ; 
Philips, 195 ; Bowring's Magyar Poetry, 195-6. 
External and Human Nature. — 

Ben Jonson, 205. 

Humboldt on the fear that a more intimate 
knowledge of Nature may lessen the charm and 
magic of her power, 36, 52, 53 ; enjoyment in the 
contemplation of Nature, 69, 70 ; the existence 
and non-existence of a feeling of Nature in 
Ancient Poetry, 51 ; on the Feeling of Nature in 
Ancient Poetry, 154. 



41 6 INDEX. 



IMAGINATION AND FANCY, 258-333. 

Literary. — 
The Poet.— 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, Rousseau's Persian Poetr}% 
311; Shakspeare, 311-12; Shelley, Wordsworth, 
Longfellow, Scott, 312. 
Words. — 

Horace (Bagot's), 313. 
Romance. — 

Tennyson, 313-14. 
Indian Legends. — 
Longfellow, 314-15. 

Metaphysical. — 
Apathy. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 309. 
Fancy. — 

Warton, 309-10; Keats, 310. 
Memory. — 

Moore, Shakspeare, Burns, 311. 
Mind. — 

Byron, Shelley, 309. 
Musing. — 

Byron, 310; Shelley, 310-11. 
Nature. — 

Arnold, 308-9. 
Soul. — 

Arnold, 308. 

Political. — 
War.— 

Shakspeare, Campbell, 331. 
Treachery . — 

Bowring's Batavian Poetry, 332. 
Religious and Moral. — 
Brevity. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 324. 
Carnal Heart. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 317. 

Compassion. — 

Rousseau's Persian Literature, 319 

Change. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 325. 

Decay. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 324. 

Decision. — 

Shakspeare, 319. 



INDEX. 417 

Deceitful. — 

Job, 317. 
Departed. — 

Scott, Wordsworth, 330; Moore, 330-1. 
Desires. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, Gray, 320. 
Dissolution. — 

Job, Bowring's Poetry of Spain, Byron, Moore, 
323 ; Shelley, 323-4. 
Divine Love. — 

Solomon's Song, Psalms of David, 315. 
Evanescence. — 

Job, 325 ; Psalms, 325-6 ; Cary's Dante, Raverty's 
Afghan Poetry, Bowring's Poetry of Spain, 326 ; 
Shakspeare, 326-7; King, Dr. H. Dyer, Herrick, 
327 ; Burns, 327-8 ; Bidlake, Bowring's Russian 
Poets, 328 ; Shelley, Clarke, Wastell, 329. 
Friendship. — 

Moore, 318. 
Futurity. — 

Watts, Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 324. 
Hope.— 

Rousseau's Persian Literature, Schiller (Lord 
Derby's), 318. 
Humble. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 319. 
Illusion. — 

Goldsmith, 325. 
Insensibility. — 

Keats, Moore, 319. 

Moore, 318. 
Mercy. — 

Psalms of David, 316. 
Obscurity. — 

Gray, 320. 
Peace. — 

Gisborne, 318. 
Promises. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 320. 
Self -Evident. — 

Job, 317. 
The Creator's Power. — 

Marvell, 316. 
The Gay. — 

Milton, 320-1. 

2 E 



41 8 INDEX. 

The Impossible. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 324. 
The Pensive.— 

Milton, 321-2-3. 
The Wise. — 

Rousseau's Persian Literature, 316; Bowring's 
Magyar Poetry, 316-17. 
Time. — 

Gascoigne, Newton, 317 ; Shelley, 317-18. 
Calm. — 

Wordsworth, 306. 
Fairy Feast. — 

Herrick, 304-5. 
Female Beauty. — 

Oxenford's French Songs, 289; Song (Henry IV.), 
Sir P. Sidney, Shakspeare, 290; Raverty's 
Afghan Poetry, 290-1 ; Carlyle's Arabian Poetry, 
Thomson, Moore, 291 ; Tennyson, 291-2 ; Spen- 
ser, 292. 
Friendship. — 

Shakspeare, Moore, 306. 
Grief. — 

Goldsmith, 306; Moore, Wordsworth, 307. 
Love. — 

Spenser, 293 ; Shakspeare, 283-4 ; Sir T. Wiat, 
294 ; T. Carew, 294-5 > Marlowe, Sir W. Jones's 
Translation, Chodzki's Persian Poetry, 295 ; 
Bowring's Magyar Poetry, 296 ; Bowring's Poetry 
of Spain, 296-7-8; Alger's Poetry of the East, 
Sylvester, 298 ; Anon., 298-9; Oxenford's French 
Songs, Dulcken's German Songs, Shelley, 299 ; 
Keats, Joanna Baillie, Byron, 300 ; Moore, 300-1 ; 
Montgomery, 301 ; Tennyson, 301-2-3. 
Marriage. — 

Beaumont and Fletcher, 305-6. 
Rest.— 

Moore, 307. 
Retreat. — 

Tennyson, 303-4. 
Sleep. — 

Keats, Noel, 307 ; Hogg, 308. 
Voice. — 

Shakspeare, Moore, 303. 
Watching. — 

Cary's Dante, 292 ; Keats, 292-3. 
Wavering Love. — 

Shakspeare, Bowring's Bohemian Poetry, 303. 



INDEX. 419 

Wine. — 

Rousseau's Persian Poetry, Moore, 305. 

Universe. — 
Action. — 

Scott, 288-9. 
Birds. — 

Gary's Dante, Shelley, 284. 
Bees. — 

Shakspeare, Byron, 284. 
Calm. — 

Byron, Tennyson, 269 ; Moore, 270. 
Clouds. — 

Shakspeare, 271 ; Shelley, 272. 
Death. — 

Home, Bryant, 289, 
Earth. — 

Schiller, 267. 
Fire. — 

Cary's Dante, Lambert, 272. 
Flowers. — 

Barry Cornwall, 286 ; Wordsworth, 286-7. 
Isle. — 

Shelley, 276. 
Lightning. — 

Lambert, 272. 
Man. — 

Psalms of David, Shakspeare, Burns, Moore, 288. 
Moon, &*c. — 

Shakspeare, Schiller (Lambert's), Longfellow, 266. 
Morning. — 

Home, Byron, 268 ; Moore, 268-9. 
Motion. — 

Shelley, 287 ; David Grant, 287-8. 
Nature. — 

Shelley, 262-3 '> Cunningham, Bowring's Russian 
Poets, Oxenford's French Songs, 264 ; Byron, 
264-5 ; Tennyson, 265. 
Night. — 

Longfellow, 271. 
Ocean. — 

Byron, 274 ; Tennyson, 275. 
Perfume. — 

Moore, 287. 
Rainbow. — 

Campbell, 272 ; Lambert, 270. 

2 E 2 



42 O INDEX. 

Seasons. — 

Milton, Spenser, 276 ; Willis, Moore, Hemans, 
Longfellow, 277 ; Shelley, 277-8 ; Cowper, 278-9; 
Campbell, 279 ; Shelley, 279-80. 
Sound. — 

Shakspeare, Barry Cornwall, Thomson, 271 ; Shelley, 
Moore, Byron, 273. 
Storm. — 

Shakspeare, 280. 
Stars. — 

Kirke White, Keats, 267 ; Campbell, Moore, 
Byron, 268. 
Sun, S--c. — 

Cary's Dante, 265 ; Moore, 266. 
Trees. — 
Campbell, 284-5 ; Akenside, Moore, Cary's Dante, 
Horace Smith, 285 ; Spenser, 286. 
Truth.— 

Shakspeare, Moore, 288. 
Unstable. — 

Shelley, 281 ; Drummond, Shakspeare, Bowring's 
Batavian Poetry, 282 ; Taylor's German Poetry, 
282-3 5 Thomson, Campbell, Shelley, 283. 
Water.— 
Cary's Dante, 273-4; Bowring's Poetry of Spain, 
Keats, 274. 
Kingsley, Rev. Charles. The Mystic, the true Interpreter 

of Nature, 31-38. 
Lasting, 403. 

Lyric Poets and the world of Nature, 5. 
Lucretius. De Natura Berum, 4. 
Macaulay, example of his use of metaphor, 93; his use of 

figurative language, 87-8. 
Max Miiller. Nature incapable of progress or improvement, 
54» 55> 5 6 J on metaphor, 85. 

MEDITATIVE, RELIGIOUS, MORAL, AND SERIOUS 
POETRY, 211-257. 

Apostrophe. — 
Heaven. — 

Shakspeare, 214. 
Moon. — 

Ossian, 213. 
Mountains. — 

Bowring's Poetry of Bohemia, 214; Scott, 215-16. 
Martial Faith. — 

Scott, 215. 



INDEX. 421 

y at nre. — 

Brooke's Universal Nature, 214; Thomson, 215. 
Trees. — 

Bowring's Poetry of Spain, 214* 
Winds. — 

Shelley, 215, 
Association, — 
A Pass. — 

Wordsworth, 220, 
Action. — 

Dulcken's German Songs, 217-18. 
Alps.— 

Wiat, SirT., 216, 
Autumn. — 

Shakspeare, 216, 
Blue. — 

Dulcken's German Songs, 217. 
Bright Scene. — 

Moore, 220. 
Change. — 

Scott, 219. 
Daisy. — 

Montgomery, 218, 
Fire. — 

Cary's Dante, 216 ; Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 216. 
Graveyard. — 

Tennyson, 221-2, 
Groves. — 

Milton, 222-3. 
Human Nature. — 

Wordsworth, 220-1. 
Leaf. — 

Cary's Dante, 216. 
Moonlight. — 

Scott, 219-20. 
Morning. — 

Gray, 223-4. 
Nature. — 

Beattie, 217. 
Poplars. — 

Cowper, 218. 
Rose. — 

Scott, 218. 
Snow. — 

Byron, 220. 
Sound. — 

Wordsworth, 220. 



422 INDEX. 

The East. — 

Gay, 224. 
Thistle. — 

Burns, 219. 
Wing. — 

Shakspeare, 222. 
Comparative. — 
Animals. — 

Shakspeare, Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 235 ; Scott, 
236. 
Birds. — 

Cary's Dante, Creech's Lucretius, Shakspeare, 

235- 
Corn. — 

Job, Lord Derby's Homer, 234. 
Deity. — 

Psalms of David, Bowling's Russian Poets, 224-5 > 
Cowper, 225. 
Fish.— 

Cary's Dante, 230. 
Hornet. — 

Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 235. 
Morning. — 

Bowring's Poetry of Spain, 227. 
Nature. — 

Bowring's Russian Poets, 225-6. 
Plants. — 

Anonymous, (Paraphrase of Job), 232 ; Shakspeare, 
Psalms of David, 1st Epistle of St. Peter, Gray, 
Cary's Dante, 233. 
Poison. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 234. 
Reptiles. — 

Cary's Dante, 235. 
Rock.— 

Lord Derby's Homer, Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 
Shakspeare, 230. 
Rose. — 

Shakspeare, 232. 
Serpents. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 234. 
Snow. — 

Job, Lord Derby's Homer, Shakspeare, 234. 
Sun. — 

Cary's Dante, 226 ; Shakspeare, 226-7. 
Time. — 

Shakspeare, Scott, 226. 



INDEX. 423 

Trees. — 

Psalms of David, 230-1 ; Job, Lord Derby's Homer, 
Jonson, 231 ; Shakspeare, 231-2. 
Violet.— 

Wordsworth, 252. 
Water.— 
Job, Lord Derby's Homer, Shakspeare, 229 ; Scott, 
229-30. 
Wind, Air. — 
Job, Psalms of David, 227 ; Lord Derby's Homer, 
227, 8 ; Cary's Dante, Shakspeare, Milton, 228 ; 
Scott, 228, 9. 
Winter. — 

Shakspeare, 230. 
Meditative. — 
Creation. — 

Watts, Habington, 243. 
Death. — 

Habington, 252. 
Decay. — 

Shakspeare, Armstrong, 249 ; Barry Cornwall, 
249-50; Tennyson, 250-1-2. 
Flowers. — 

Shakspeare, Herrick, 255 ; Kirke White, 255-6 ; 
Byron, Hood, Wordsworth, 256; Tennyson, 
256-7. 
Herds. — 

Pope, 254. 
Italy.— 

Addison, 246, 7. 
Morn. — 

Shakspeare, Gray, 247. 
Nature. — 

Stillingfleet, 243-4 ; Brooke, Smollet, Gray, 
Cowper, 244; Shelley, 244-5; Schiller, (Lord 
Derby's Translation), 245 ; Arnold, 245-6. 
Scenery. — 

Scott, 246. 
Seasons. — 

Shakspeare, Drummond, Habington, 247 ; Gray, 
248. 
Subtilty. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 252. 
Shapes. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 252-3. 
Time. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 248; Shakspeare, 248-9. 



424 INDEX. 

Trees.— 

Cowley, Pope, Leyden, 254; Southey, 254-5 ; Lord 
Derby's Translations from French, 255. 
Water. — 

Creech's Lucretius, Cowper, Logan, 253. 
World.— 

Shakspeare, 247. 

Reflective. — 
Cloud. — 

Shakspeare, 237. 
Flint. — 

Scott, 239. 
Flowers. — 

Shakspeare, 240-1. Hurdis, Wesley, 241. 
Frost. — 

Shakspeare, Chodzko's Poetry of Persia, 241. 
Heat. — 

Creek's Lucretius, 237-8. 
Insects. — 

Proverbs of Solomon, (Herder,) Ecclesiasticus, 
Pope, 242. 
Lambs. — 

Bloomfield, 242. 
Light.— 

Moore, 237. 
Lightning.-*- 

Bowring's Poetry of Spain, Shakspeare, Scott, 237. 
Moon. — 

Shakspeare, 237. 
Morning. — 

Shakspeare, 238. 
Night. — 

Shakspeare, 238. Moore, 238-9. 
Seasons. — 

Doddridge, Shakspeare, 240. 
Scenery. — 

Warton, Campbell, 239. Scott, 240. 
Space. — 

Creech's Lucretius, 237. 
Stars. — 

Howell (J.), 237. 
Strea?ns. — 

Creech's Lucretius, Shakspeare, Tennant, 239. 
Sun. — 

Creech's Lucretius, Raverty's Afghan Poetry, Shakes- 
peare, Moore, 236. Wordsworth, 236-7. 



INDEX, 425 

Water.— 

Creech's Lucretius, 239. 
Wind. — 
Job, Habingtpn, 238. 

Metaphor, the use of, 93, 97. Examples from Macaulay, 
93 ; Ossian, 94 ; the Sacred Writings, 95. Classifi- 
cation of Epithets, 96. 

Metrical Hymns, examples of, 366-7. 

Mysteries, 394-5-6. 

Moir (Delta), his opinions of Pope, 1 13-14 ; on the cur- 
tailment of the poetical province by scientific pro- 
gress, 34, 35, and 39 ; Poets who will not view Nature 
with the unassisted eye, 62 ; on Wordsworth, 68 ; 
on the invariable principles of Poetry, 251. 

Moore, Wordsworth, Southey, Wilson, their treatment 
of Natural Objects, 65-7. 

Moore, Vision of Philosophy, 50. 

Nature, in reference to ancient study, 1 ; as regarded by 
superficial observers, 2 ; or, the intellectual, and the 
mental world, 3 ; its study unnoticed by Horace, 3 ; 
Addison's idea of additions to, n ; described by Dr. 
Blacklock, although blind, 11 ; Arnold's views of inter- 
preting, 27, 28; unsatisfactory, 28, 29 ; described as 'a 
book', 32 ; its language, speech, and teachings, 33 ; 
Emerson's estimate of, 33 ; Ruskin's remarks on ' seeing,' 
34 ; Humboldt's opinion of science enlarging views of, 
36, 52, 53 ; in descriptive poetry, 37-40 ; applied typically, 
as noted by Ruskin, 42; Professor Bain on comparisons 
derived from, 43, 44 ; its comprehensive character, 45 ; 
poetical notices of, by Beattie, Thomson, Burns, Words- 
worth, and Byron, 46, 47; and Art, their influence con- 
trasted, 48; as viewed by T. Campbell, 53,54; various 
opinions respecting, 56 : Boyle's Essay on, 56 ; defined 
to be all, not Art, 57 ; on poetical reality, or truth to, 60 ; 
insight into, ' a gift,' 60 ; Bowles on the true poet of,6i ; 
Coleridge on the Beautiful in, 61 , Moir's strictures on 
certain poetical aspirants, 62 ; novelty in, advocated by 
De Quincey, 64 ; Humboldt on striking scenes and 
phenomena of, 69, 70 ; Images, &c, from, collected by 
Dr. Southey, 72-76 ; remarks on Dr. Southey's collection, 
76, 77 ; remarks on and examples of Wordsworth's 
study of, 77-80 ; no definite study of, 81 ; the scientific 
and the poetical study of, 82, 83 ; evidence illustrative 
of past and present use of, 84, 85 ; metaphors derived 
from, 85, 86 ; as affecting language in Macaulay's 
History of England, 88 ; also in his Essays, 88 ; the same 
in Carlyle's Address, 89 ; likewise C. Dickens's Old 



426 



INDEX. 



Curiosity Shop, 89-91 ; and Gladstone's Chapter of Auto- 
biography, gi t 92 ; its influence on language, 97 ; Thom- 
son's lines on, 150 ; its lessons, 188 ; action, a law of, 
287 ; the poet's attention to the small and evanescent in, 
332 ; Negative, and non-natural views of, 334-365 ; 
exceptional poetical views of, 366-374 ; failure of 
attempts to spiritualize, 336 ; inverted, 347 ; religious 
writers, 368 ; is one grand mystery, 375 ; beauty in, 376 ; 
has a transition state, 376 ; weakness of criticism 
applied to the wonderful works of Creation, 376 ; the 
spiritual associated by some critics with, 386 ; applica- 
tions of, 390 ; duality in, 392 ; poetical illustrative 
extracts relating to, 214, 217, 225, 243, 262, 308. 

Naples, lines on, 161. 

Nature and Art, a controversy respecting, 11. 

Natural History recommended for the poet's study, 9 ; 
poetical zoology criticized, 10 ; applied by Dr. Aikin to 
poetry, 15 ; zoology recommended by Dr. Newell, 17 ; 
Dr. Darwin's Botanic Garden, 155, 157. 

Nature, Human, an absorbing study, 6 ; an independent 
and important study, 175, 210 ; and external nature, 205. 

Nature-Study, deficient in classical and early English 
poetry, 5 ; artificially pursued by early poets, 6 ; a 
popular view of its character and pursuit, 8 ; as it has been 
hitherto pursued, 59 ; its deficiency in English poetry for 
75 years, 20 ; whence its stores are derived, as an art, 69 ; 
want of system, 81 ; its difficulties suggested, 82 ; 
systematic study urged, 82; generalization, an elementary 
step, 83, 386 ; replete with common-places, and subli- 
mities, 84; commences with visible forms, 113 ; introduc- 
tion to, 375 ; the poet's province in, 379 ; particularization 
in, a secondary process, 386 ; the language of, 389 ; its 
pursuit to assist imagination and fancy, 399. 

Nautilus, lines on the, 143. 

NEGATIVE VIEWS OF NATURE, 334-365. 

Apostrophe. — 
To Death. — 

Shakspeare, 338-40. 
Bombast and Irony. — 
Nature Inverted. — ■ 

Pope, 347-8. 
The Morn. — 
Butler, 347. 
Fable, &c. 

Flint and Steel. — 

Kennedy's Poets of Spain, 351. 



INDEX. 427 



Forest and Floods. — 

Esdras, 350. 
The Almighty. — 

Esdras, 350-1. 
Hyperbole. 
Army. — 

Lord Derby's Homer, 343. 
A Mob.— 

Shakspeare, 346. 
Blood. — 

Shakspeare, 345. 
Ccesar. — 

Shakspeare, 345. 
Discord. — 

Shakspeare, 345. 
Love. — 

Truths Integrity (Early Ballad), 344. 
Love's Wishes. — 

Oxenford's French Songs, 346-7. 
Memorial. — 

Shakspeare, 344-5. 
Ocean Grave. — 

Shakspeare, 345. 
Orpheus. — 

Shakspeare, 346. 
Speed. — 

Shakspeare, 346. 
Submission. — 

Shakspeare, 346. 
Triumph. — 

Shakspeare, 346. 
Proverbs. — 
Dreams. — 

Ecclesiasticus, 348. 

Greek Proverbs, 348-9. 

Persian Proverbs, 349. 

Proverbs from the Greek, 348-9. 

Hindostanee Proverb, 349. 
Night. — 

Shakspeare, 349. 

Proverbs from Rabelais, 350. 

Proverbs from Swift's Gulliver, 350. 
Satire. — 
A Critic- — 

Shelley, 341. 
Brute Nature. — 

Swift (J.), 340. 



4^8 INDEX. 

Critics. — 

Pope, 341. 
Dulness. — 

Pope, 342. 
Prey, Vermin. — 

Swift (J.), 340-1. 
Robbery. — 

Shakspeare, 343. 
The Book-Worm. — 

Parnell, 340. 
The Stoics. — 

Butler, 342. 
Woman. — 

Anon, 342. 

Typical, etc. 
Belief.— 

Wesley, 354. 
Contrasts. — 

Bowring's Magyar Poetry, 354. 
Golden Age. — 

Herder's Hebrew Poetry, 352. 
Intercourse. — 
Milton, 353. 
Love. — 

Southwell, Dr. T. Lodge, 358; Ben Jonson, 358-g ; 
Cartwright, Habington, Shakspeare, 359 ; Burns, 
359-60; Campbell, Scott, 360. 
Mind. — 

Shakspeare, 354. 
Non-Natural. — 

Thomson's Sales Attici, Creech's Lucretius, Alger's 
Eastern Poetry, Milton, Shakspeare, 355 ; Bow- 
ring's Russian Poets, Byron, 356. 
Seasonable. — 

Shakspeare, 353. 
Self -Deception. — 

Shakspeare, 354. 
The Almighty. — 

Herder's Hebrew Poetry, 352. 
The Impossible. — 

Ecclesiasticus, Horace (Lord Derby's), Alger's 
Eastern Poetry, Raverty's Afghan Poetry, 356 ; 
Ashmole, 356-7 ; Shakspeare, 357-8. 
The Unsearchable. — ■ 

Herrick, 353. 
The Universe. — 

Herder's Hebrew Poetry, 351-2. 



INDEX 429 

Wisdom's Glory. — 
Ecclesiasticus, 352-3. 

Newell, R. H. The Zoology of the English Poets, 17. 

Night scene in the Countess of Winchelsea's Nocturnal 
Reverie, 18; described by Dryden, 19. 

Nocturnal Reverie, by Countess of Winchelsea, 119-20. 

Non-Natural, 355 ; examples of its application, 363 ; its 
misapplication, 363-4 ; appropriate use in Hebrew- 
poetry, and as applied by Shakspeare, 364 ; misapplied 
by Thomson, 372-3. 

Novelty in Nature advocated by De Quincey, 64. 

Oersted, Hans C. On the relation between Natural Science 
and Poetry, 12. 

Ossian. Metaphorical expressions from, 94. 

Particularization, 391-2-3-4. 

Perfection, 403. 

Platitudes, amusing use of, 371. 

Proverbs, examples from Book of Job, 103 ; Thomson's 
Salis Attici, 103-4-5 ; Roebuck's Persian Proverbs, 105 ; 
Turkish Proverbs, 105, 6 ; Raverty's Afghan Proverbs, 
106 ; Shakspeare, 106-7-8 ; Maunder's Treasury of Know- 
ledge, 108-9; Bonn's Handbook of Proverbs, 109-10; 
Analysis of Proverbs, 110-11. 

Analysis of, 110-11. 

Ancient and Modern, 98-1 11. 

associating the mental faculties with the material 

world, 400-1. 

from the Greek, 348. 

■ from the Persian, 349. 

from Rabelais, 350. 

from Swift, 350. 



Proverbial Philosophy, 100-102. 

Rees' Cyclopaedia, on the study of Nature for Poetical 

purposes, 8, 11. 
Ruskin. On the first observance of Nature, 34; Typical 

applications of Nature, 42. 
Saint Pierre's Harmonies of Nature, 13 ; Human 

Harmonies of Plants, 14 ; Studies of N attire, 13. 
Satirical Poets and the world of Nature, 5. 
Schiller. The Greek Poet a faithful exponent of Nature, 

51-2. 
Shakspeare. Truthfulness in dealing with natural objects, 

19. 
Shairp, Professor. On Wordsworth's love and appreciation 

of Nature, 30-1 ; requirements of the Poet as an inter- 
preter of Nature, 38. 



43° INDEX. 

Southey. Notes from Common-Place Book on Nature, 
71-6. 

Speed, 402-3. 

Strength, 403. 

Taylor. On the Excursion, 368. 

Taylor, Henry. Wordsworth's love of Nature, 22-3. 

Tennyson, 26; In Memoriam — sometimes misty and 
unmeaning, 336-7. 

Thomson. Examples of the non-natural from the Seasons, 
372-3 ; invocation to Nature, 150 ; on the difficulty of 
painting Nature, 46-7. 

Time, 394. 

Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy, 100-102. 

Ugliness, 368-9-70. 

Violet. Epithets applied to, 397-8. 

Virgil's Georgics, 4. 

Welsh Triads, the, in reference to the poetical character, 7. 

Whately, Dr. Novelty in metaphor, 49. 

Wilson, Professor. Defence of Burns as an observer of 
Nature, 61. 

Wordsworth, his remarks on the dearth of Nature-Study, 18; 
strictures on Dryden, 18, 54; and on Pope, 18; observa- 
tions in his Preface, 20; opinions expressed in The 
Excursion, 21; not clear to commentators, 22; noticed 
by H. Taylor, 22; estimation of his poetical style, 24; 
treatment of the small or minute, 25, 26; Prof. Shairp's 
opinion of his poetry, 30 ; De Quincey's critical essay on, 
62, 64; De Quincey's six special notices of, 63, 64; his 
lines on cattle grazing, 64; Moir's remarks on, 65, 68; 
The Prelude, remarks on, 67 ; quoted 261 ; his critics 
named, 67 ; is philosophy mythical, 67 ; remarks on and 
examples of his study of Nature, 77-80 ; his method of 
studying Nature problematical, 81 ; censures the cold, 
dry style, 113. 



FINIS. 



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